#but if y’all like this i might put it on ao3 since it’s so fucking long

[firstkanaphans]

Could you imagine writing 11 for SandRay? 🥺👉👈

Rating/Warnings: Explicit; Dom/Sub undertones Word Count: 2800ish (someone save me from myself bc the whole point of this exercise was to not write full-length fics 🙈)

Read on AO3

{tying} them down as punishment

When Sand got home to the apartment he shared with Ray, it was dark. That should have been his first clue that something was wrong but naively, he assumed his boyfriend was capable of being normal. He realized he was wrong when the lights suddenly turned on, revealing Ray sitting on their living room sofa with his arms crossed.

“Where have you been?” Ray asked, standing. He was dressed in nothing but a silk bathrobe, his chest bare underneath. 

Sand rolled his eyes and tossed his empty bag down on a chair. “You know where I’ve been,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and discarding that as well. 

“I do,” Ray said. “But we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore, so I’m having a hard time seeing why—”

“We did not agree.” Sand huffed. “You made that up in your head.”

Ray didn’t like that Sand was still selling his illegally brewed plum wine. When they’d started talking about moving in together, one of Ray’s conditions had been that Sand get rid of the wine, which Sand had agreed to. It was one of Ray’s more reasonable conditions and he had no intention of bringing alcohol into a space they shared anyway, but he slowly came to realize it wasn’t the alcohol itself that Ray had a problem with. It was the illegality of it. And it wasn’t himself he was worried about. It was Sand.

It might have been sweet if it wasn’t so goddamn annoying.

“No, we talked about this,” Ray argued with the air of someone who didn’t understand that just because they told you to do something, didn’t mean you actually had to do it. “What happens to me if you get arrested, hm? Did you think about that? We live together now. You can't just abandon me. If you need money—”

He was starting to get worked up the way he always did when he got it into his head that Sand might be leaving the way everyone left, so Sand stepped forward and took Ray’s face into his hands, forcing him to calm down. Ray swatted him away.

“I didn’t want to just dump it, okay?" Sand said. "But I sold the last bottle tonight. I’m done. I’m not making anymore.” It was a win for Ray, but he seemed unwilling to admit that. Instead, he just stood there pouting, his arms still crossed over his chest.

Sand knew Ray was far too stubborn to admit he was wrong, but he hadn’t realized just how stubborn until Ray launched himself across the space between them and kissed him on the lips to avoid having to admit anything at all. Sand could have pressed him if he wanted to, but he knew that kiss was likely the only apology he was going to get and so he decided to enjoy it.

He grabbed Ray by the ties of his robe to pull him closer and then slowly untied it so that he could slip his hands inside to wrap around Ray’s waist. His skin was warm and he shivered at Sand’s touch, but he didn’t break the kiss. In fact, he kissed him harder, backing him towards their bedroom. Towards their bed. He let his robe fall to the floor, leaving him in only his underwear, and then pulled Sand’s T-shirt over his head. By the time he pushed Sand down onto the mattress, they were both half-naked.

“You’re impatient tonight,” Sand said, suddenly eager himself. He liked when Ray got needy like this. He liked being the only thing that could calm him.

Ray didn’t bother responding. He was too far gone for words. Instead, he kissed Sand again, grabbing both of his wrists in his hands and lifting them above his head as if he wanted to pin them there.

That’s when Sand heard an ominous click. 

He immediately broke the kiss and looked up to find that he had been handcuffed to the bed. The cuffs were made out of a butter-soft leather, but when he pulled against them, they didn’t give. The chain was wound around one of the iron bars of their bed frame and made a rattling noise as he pulled. Sand whipped around to glare at Ray.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

Ray just shrugged innocently, but his face did not look innocent at all. He looked inordinately pleased with himself as if he hadn’t actually expected that to work. “Punishing you,” he said simply. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”

“Oh, have I?” Sand tugged on the restraints again, but found no purchase. He turned back to Ray, intrigued. It was not like Ray to take control like this—not unless he was angry or frustrated or wanted a drink, but would settle for Sand instead. He didn’t seem to be any of those things at the moment. Instead, he seemed giddy like a child who’s just discovered a new toy. “And what exactly does this punishment entail?”

“Whatever I want it to.”

If Ray took Sand’s pants off now, he would see that his erection hadn’t flagged in the slightest. That it had, in fact, grown. “So my punishment is that you have to do all the work for once?” Sand teased. “However will I live?”

Ray smirked. “Oh, that’s cute. You think this is going to be easy for you?”

Sand frowned, sensing that maybe he was missing something, but before he could try to figure out what exactly it was, Ray lunged forward and kissed him. Immediately, Sand tried to reach for him, wanting to tangle his fingers in his hair and touch, but the cuffs held him back. That’s when he realized there might be some truth to Ray’s words. 

He growled in frustration, breaking the kiss to tilt his head up to try to find some means of escape, but Ray simply tilted his chin back down and kissed him again as if there had been no interruption. This time, Sand kissed him back, determined to prove that he could still do so adequately even without the ability to touch, but much too soon, Ray pulled away, a smirk still on his lips. 

“Having fun?” he asked. Then he reached for the buckle on Sand’s jeans. Sand immediately sensed that he was in danger. He had never been completely at Ray’s mercy before and he found the possibility simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. Sand tugged on the handcuffs again, but still, there was no give. 

“If you’re a good boy,” Ray said, nosing along the seam of Sand’s jeans, “this will go much better for you.”

“And what exactly does being a ‘good boy’ entail?” Sand asked through gritted teeth as Ray hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and pulled both them and his underwear off in a single tug. Once freed from its confines, his dick sprang up hard against his stomach, precome already leaking from the tip. 

Ray mouthed at his shaft, licking it clean, and Sand fought against his restraints once more. It was official: he would not survive this. 

Once Ray was done, he pulled off and the sudden influx of cool air against Sand’s wet cock sent a chill throughout his body. Ray didn’t seem to care about his discomfort. He glared down at Sand. “Stop pulling against the cuffs,” he said. “It’s loud and you’re going to hurt yourself. Just stay still and I’ll reward you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sand replied. Ray wasn’t the type to give rewards freely. 

Ray threw his nose into the air as if Sand had offended him. “Well, you don’t have much of a choice now, do you?” he asked. Then he set to work kissing every bare inch of Sand’s body. 

Sand had never just lain still and let himself be loved before. Ray was impatient in bed and Sand liked that he was, so if anyone got lavished in kisses, it was Ray. Ray was the one who liked the attention and Sand preferred to give it to him rather than take it for himself.

But today, Ray took his time. And for the first time, Sand let him. 

It took every ounce of self-control Sand had to force himself to relax, but he did good. He didn’t pull on the cuffs. The room fell quiet except for the sound of Sand’s hitched breathing and the soft, wet kisses of Ray’s lips.

“Good boy,” Ray praised, looking up at Sand from beneath hooded lashes as he began sucking on the thin skin of his groin. “Maybe now it’s time for your reward.”

Sand’s first instinct was to say no thank you. He was sweating and trembling, his body already overstimulated, but it would have been like saying no to a sip of water after marching through the desert. He was parched and Ray was offering him relief. So he didn’t say no. Instead, he just lay there and watched as Ray, maintaining eye contact the whole time, slowly took his cock into his mouth.

Sand couldn’t help it: he jerked on the cuffs again, causing them to rattle against the metal bed frame, and Ray immediately pulled off of him with a disappointed click of his tongue. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” he said smugly.

“Ray, please,” Sand begged. 

Ray seemed to like the begging. “Please what?”

Sand felt his cheeks heat and although the petulant side of him wanted to refuse Ray the satisfaction, the part that was still hard, the part that now knew exactly how good it felt to have Ray’s lips wrapped around him, was willing to do everything.

“Please keep going,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“You better be,” Ray threatened, but he was a man of his word. He took Sand back into his mouth and swallowed him all the way down.

They had been together almost six months now, but Sand could count on one hand the number of times Ray had given him a blow job. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. It wasn’t even that Ray didn’t like giving them. It was simply that Sand preferred to give and Ray preferred to take—that was the dynamic that worked for them—but there was no denying that even out of practice, Ray still knew what he was doing. 

It wasn’t long before Sand was thrusting up into his mouth, doing everything he could to keep his hands still, to not rattle the cuffs and risk Ray stopping. He was so close, right there on the edge when—

Suddenly, Ray pulled off of him all at once, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and revealing a smirk underneath. At first, Sand thought he was just taking an ill-timed break and would resume his ministrations soon, but he didn’t. He just sat there and watched Sand squirm.

“Ray, c’mon!” Sand snapped, yanking on the cuffs for the first time in a while. “Why did you stop? I was being good.”

“Because,” Ray said matter-of-factly. “You’re being punished.”

Sand let out a cry of frustration. “I’m not sure the punishment matches the crime here.”

Ray didn’t answer him, but climbed back up his body to kiss his lips, to stroke his hair, to massage his wrists where they had started to ache. It was such a soft, loving contrast to the throbbing in Sand’s dick. Ray continued kissing him as he pulled off his own underwear, leaving them both naked, and when he sat back on Sand’s abdomen, Sand saw just how aroused he was. Despite the fact that Sand was the one getting his dick sucked, Ray looked just as hard. Sand’s dick twitched against Ray’s back at the sight and Ray pressed his ass against it in acknowledgement. 

“I’m going to ride you now,” he said, lifting up and situating Sand at his entrance. The tip went in easily and Sand could tell that Ray had already prepped himself for this. “You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.”

“If you think I have any control over that—”

He broke off as his dick slipped easily inside Ray’s familiar body and for the first time all night, it seemed like Ray was just as overcome as he was. He didn’t even notice Sand slip up and pull against the cuffs. He just threw his head back and sighed as if this was the feeling he had been searching for all along.

“Ray, I’m serious,” Sand said in warning as Ray began to move, slowly lifting himself off of Sand’s dick and then pushing back down again. Sand bent his knees just slightly so that he could put the soles of his feet on the bed to give himself enough leverage to thrust and he did, taking Ray deeper. “I’m too close already. I’m going to come.”

“No, you’re not,” Ray said and he sounded so sure, Sand almost believed him. “Just a little longer. Please.”

It was the please that did it. It was always the please that did it. Sand had been conditioned to that word coming out of Ray’s mouth. All he ever wanted to do was make him happy. So as Ray began to ride him harder and faster, his dick bouncing against his stomach on every thrust, Sand tried to think of anything that wasn’t how devastatingly beautiful his boyfriend was. He tried not to stare at the pink flush on his cheeks, at the tattoos painted on his skin, and the sight of his own dick disappearing deep into his body. He wasn’t doing well, but he was trying.

Ray, however, was taking no mercy on him. He was doing some of his best work and despite the threat of “punishment,” Sand didn’t actually think he was trying to be cruel. He just seemed desperate, clenching his body tight around Sand’s dick with each thrust, burying his face in Sand’s neck, whispering words of affirmation into his ear. “So good, baby. So good.”

And Sand was so hard, he thought it might drive him mad. “Ray, please. Can I come?” His muscles were twitching with the effort it took not to but still, Ray did not slow his efforts. In fact, he sped up. Sand groaned. 

“I’m close,” Ray said. Sand could tell that was the truth. His eyes were practically rolled back in his head and his dick was leaking precome, but Sand had reached the limits of what he could handle. He didn’t want to disappoint Ray, but he physically couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Ray, please—”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence before Ray said, “Come for me.”

As if his words were some sort of spell, Sand did, coming deep inside Ray’s body as Ray did the same, stroking himself to completion and spilling his seed on Sand’s bare chest. That was what he had wanted all along: for them to come together.

Sand was still breathing hard when Ray climbed off of him. He grumbled as the cool air touched his skin. It was too soon. He wanted to cuddle. But before he could voice that desire out loud, Ray grabbed a small metal key off of the bedside table and reached up to undo the handcuffs. 

The cuffs were barely off of Sand’s wrists before Ray was massaging the ache from his muscles and wrapping him in a hug, all traces of anger or frustration gone. He curled into Sand’s body like he was the one who needed to be held.

“What was all that about?” Sand asked with a small laugh. His voice was hoarse and he found that he was exhausted. It was late and there was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep in his lover’s arms.

“I don’t know,” Ray admitted, his voice muffled in Sand’s chest. “It’s just that you’re always spoiling me. I wanted to spoil you this time.”

Sand snorted. “I think you need to work on your definition of ‘spoil,’” he said, but he stroked a hand through Ray’s hair to soften the words. 

“If I hadn’t tied you up, you wouldn’t have let me,” Ray pointed out and Sand realized he was right. It had never occurred to him that his obsession with putting Ray’s pleasure first might not be what Ray wanted. That it might, in fact, be stealing pleasure from him. It was just that he loved him so much and that was the only way he knew how to show it.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of Ray’s head. “Maybe next time we can try it without the handcuffs.”

Ray smiled into his chest. “Up to you,” he said. “But I’m keeping them. And I bought a ball gag, too! Thought you might like the opportunity to shut me up every once in a while.”

Sand snorted and pulled his boyfriend closer, but Ray was wrong. There was nothing in the world Sand loved more than the sound of his voice.

[sickgraymeat]

Just found out (should have known) that if I needed to go on disability (short term or otherwise) now or after my job ends I would not qualify bc I’m being paid under the table. Knew this abt unemployment but 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 everyone please advocate for yourselves and inform yourselves in the workplace and don’t accept illegal pay if you can help it. Not having to file taxes is not a benefit. You’re being screwed over.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[wongyuseokie]

Sharing Is Caring | l.s.m, k.m.g, x.m.h

☆ 18+ minors dni | ♕ smut | ♥︎ completed

Summary: You and Mingyu have always fooled around, and no one really caught on, but today, Mingyu was feeling rather bold, and so not only do you now have an audience, but you also have two new joiners.  Word Count:  4213 words 

Pairing: Female Reader x Kim Mingyu | Fe. You’dader x Lee Seokmin | Female Reader x Xu Minghao 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, PWP. Content Warnings: None. It’s a PWP, and honestly, I just wanted to rewrite this for Seventeen’s 97 line. 

Smut Warnings: Dom! Mingyu, Dom! Minghao, Dom! Seokmin. Overstimulation, breast & nipple play. Oral (m & f receiving), face riding, squirting. Mentions of public sex. Pet names (good boy, baby boy, pretty girl), praise kink. Mingyu has a daddy kink. Pussy slapping. Spanking. Cum play. Biting, it’s mild. Hao uses cuffs. OC is a ragdoll. Pray for her. She isn’t walking for a while. They’re kind of competing? I don't know it’s just smutty. Name-calling (slut, cum slut). I don't know y’all. Choking. Kitten. 

Authors Note 1: Also, if you’ve seen this fic before, it’s because it was something I’d published once for a different group, but I wanted to revisit and rework it. Authors Note 2: Thank you so much to @wooahaeproductions and @gyupremacy for beta'ing this very long horny mess. Tagging: @aaniag 💕

Cross Posted to AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Mingyu, don’t. He’ll kill you,” you whispered, watching your best friend being an absolute idiot. You watched him lean over the couch where Minghao was sleeping peacefully. You knew Minghao had insomnia issues, so when he did manage to sleep, you didn’t want anyone to disturb him. 

“Make me Y/N,” Mingyu sassed back at you. You know the saying desperate times call for desperate measures? This was one. You walked over to Mingyu and wrapped your arms around his waist, halting his movements. Mingyu melted into your embrace but chuckled.

“Aww, cute Y/N, but that’s not going to do shit,” Mingyu said with a grin as he resumed his position to pounce on Minghao and wake him up. You put your hands under Mingyu’s shirt, sighing at his toned physique. 

“Baby, please,” you whispered.

You’d known him since you were kids and saw him through the rough trainee days to the present, where he and his other members were now selling out stadiums worldwide. To anyone else, it might have seemed like you and Mingyu were dating, but you weren’t. You just fucked.  

This whole arrangement happened one night because you were rooming with Mingyu while visiting him on tour, and you walked in on him pleasuring himself in the shower. He didn’t even look shocked or anything. 

“I have needs; if you are uncomfortable, I apologise. Please close the door, but if not,  feel free to join me.” From the adorable young boy that you knew, Mingyu had grown into one of the most handsome men you had known and a man whose duality sometimes got you wet, if you must admit. You pondered over his proposal for a second and joined him. From that night, you both became fuck buddies, and it was probably the best decision ever.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Mingyu’s resolve at waking up his member dissolved when he felt your arms wrap around his waist. “You’re not playing fair,” he mumbled, and you could feel him pout. 

“Mingyu, look at me,” you pleaded. He turned around so you were pressed into his firm chest, his arms around your waist now.

“What?” he pouted; he could be an absolute baby when required. You didn’t answer him. You stood on your tiptoes and pulled his head down to reach your lips, capturing them with yours.

“What if I kept you busy instead? Let Minghao sleep,” you suggested. Mingyu sighed, never being able to refuse you for anything, and sex was his weak spot. 

“Fine,” he bent down and hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his tiny waist. He walked over to the same sofa where Minghao was sleeping, sat you down with you straddling his lap, and continued kissing you. 

“Mingyu!” you hissed.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, he’ll wake up!” you pleaded, but it seemed like Mingyu couldn’t be bothered. After four years of being your fuck buddy, he knew your body like the back of his hand. He moved his lips to your neck and started sucking, making you suppress a moan. 

“So let him. I can assure you Minghao will enjoy what he wakes up to,” Mingyu said as he smirked against your neck. The thought of someone else watching made you grow wetter, especially if that someone was Minghao.

You’d grown considerably closer to all Seventeen, especially the 97’s. Minghao was kind, funny and sweet, and Seokmin was an absolute angel, always there no matter what. Mingyu, well, he was your best friend, but these three together were trouble with a capital “T.”

You were interrupted from your thoughts of your extremely attractive friends by Mingyu’s hands reaching the bottom of your hoodie and tugging at it. You couldn’t deny how unfairly handsome they were; it sometimes got annoying. You lifted your arms, and Mingyu removed your hoodie. His eyes widened with lust, seeing that you had chosen to forego a bra. 

“Fuck, pretty baby, no bra? Were you hoping to get fucked?” He smirked, his voice low, and you could feel his breath on your nipples. 

“Did it work?” you asked, feigning innocence. Mingyu groaned and rubbed his now hard length against your clothed pussy. 

“Can you feel that, Y/N? Of course, it did.” 

You moved your hands to reach Mingyu’s flannel shirt and unbuttoned it,  helping him out of it. His bare torso, toned body, and arms were enough to make you drool, and there was nothing to soothe the pain in your now aching cunt. 

“Y/N, stop. I want to taste you, baby; I can tell you're probably a dripping mess,” Mingyu said. You blushed, which only confirmed his assumption.

Mingyu moved you and placed you on the sofa. His hands went straight to your trousers, and he wasted no time ridding them of you before taking your underwear along with it. He was greeted with a sight he could never get tired of; your wet pussy, clit swollen, begging for attention. Just as Mingyu was about to place his tongue on your clit, you heard a gruff voice interrupt your state of bliss.

“Seriously, guys? If you’ll have sex, can you at least ask if I want to join?” Minghao smirked as he boldly asked to join you and Mingyu. You tried to cover yourself with a pillow in embarrassment, but Minghao still crawled over to your side of the sofa.

“Don’t be shy, Y/N. I’ve heard you and Mingyu so many times, and Y/N, you have no idea how many times I imagined your pretty lips on my cock. Fuck, do you both know how many bedsheets I’ve ruined because both of you won’t keep it down?” His voice was low and teasing. You shifted your gaze to Mingyu, who looked fucked out at Minghao’s words, but he recovered quicker than you.

“You want her lips, Hao?” Mingyu asked, not a hint of humour in his voice, and Minghao nodded. 

“Oh, interesting. A possible proposition, and I wasn’t invited?” A voice interrupted, and you turned around to be greeted by a shirtless Seokmin, and he was smirking at you. You were practically drooling because of the exchange between Minghao and Mingyu, and now seeing Seokmin shirtless just made you whine. Seokmin laughed at your misery, but not for long; he walked around to the sofa and bent down so his mouth was in line with your pussy.

“Shall I eat you out, princess? Your cunt looks like it’s begging for some love,” he commented. You felt his hot breath fan against your pussy; you squirmed.

“Please, Seokmin, please,” you begged, desperate to feel Seokmin’s lips and tongue on your pussy.

“Okay, princess, don’t hold back. I want to taste you on my tongue.” With that, Seokmin dove straight into your cunt. He didn’t tease; he pushed his thick tongue inside your cunt. He started moving his mouth so that his tongue was thrusting in and out of your pussy. He moved his arm and placed it over your waist, rendering you immobile. You were squirming too much, and Seokmin wanted you at his mercy.

He moved his tongue to your clit, which was now red and swollen, and begging for attention. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit and sucked while his tongue flicked your nub; his flicks were harsh and unrelenting. You felt him insert two fingers into your cunt, his mouth never-ceasing their actions while his fingers thrust in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. You thought you would come apart right then and there; his mouth felt so good. 

You were so close, and Seokmin knew. He stopped flicking at your clit and gently nibbled it, pushing his fingers deeper into your cunt. Thrusting them upwards, he hit your g-spot. You fell apart on his tongue and let out a slight scream.

Seokmin didn’t stop; he kept lapping at your release and fingering you. The oversensitivity of his actions caused something to snap in you, making you shake violently. You grabbed Seokmin’s hair for support, and your vision faded; you were in utter euphoria.

“Hey, Y/N You okay, pretty girl?” Seokmin asked you, his voice breaking you from your lust-bound spell. You nodded.  He smiled and leaned in,  pecking your lips. You tasted yourself on him. 

“Wait, Seokmin, why are you all we—,” you stopped mid-speech because you realised why he was dripping wet. 

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you whispered. Seokmin smiled and leaned over to where Mingyu and Minghao were. 

“Hear that, Mingyu? I made her squirt. You still can’t do much to your baby girl,” Seokmin teased and shot a wink at you. You heard a growl from Mingyu. as he moved over to you, pushing Seokmin away.

While Mingyu grabbed you by the waist and repositioned you so you were now lying with your back down on the sofa, Seokmin moved over to Minghao and curled up by his side. 

Mingyu glared at you. “Do you see what you’ve done, princess? Now I’m going to fuck you, and I won’t stop until you squirt again. You are in for a long night,” Mingyu teased as he leaned above and kissed you.

“Safeword Y/N?” Mingyu asked. 

“Peaches.”

Seokmin had bruised Mingyu’s ego, and he was unhappy. 

Millions of questions ran through his mind. Were you not satisfied? Did you fake your orgasms? 

How did Seokmin, for the first time, make you squirt? He was pissed, and he was going to take it out on you. He would make you cum, squirt and beg. 

“Y/n, on your hands and knees right now,” Mingyu demanded, and you knew not to disobey, but you were a brat, and you loved to get him worked up so he’d punish you. 

“Baby boy, I’m tired. Seokmin just did a number on me,” you cooed and winked at Seokmin, who smiled and winked back at you. 

“Y/N, don’t fucking test my patience,” Mingyu warned. His voice was now louder and caught the attention of the two other boys, who were sat on the sofa to make their way to your side. Seokmin and Minghao were now sitting on either side. 

You froze in place, not that it took much. Your legs were jelly, thanks to Seokmin. Minghao started peppering kisses to your neck and started sucking, earning a moan from you. 

“Y/N,” Minghao spoke, his deep voice making you dizzy. 

“Yes?” you answered. 

“Listen to the big baby; get on your hands and knees, pretty girl. I’ll make it worthwhile,” he spoke and kissed your lips softly enough, leaving you wanting more. 

Once you were on all fours, you realised that you were facing Minghao, and you felt a dip in the sofa, noticing Seokmin once again move back to sit next to Minghao. You felt Seokmin’s hands on your ass; he was turning you around onto your hands and knees. Simply staring at them, you felt yourself getting wetter. A sharp slap to your ass broke you free of your daydream. 

“Fuck, Mingyu!” Another slap. 

“Fuck Mingyu, baby, I—” One more slap. Mingyu leaned over your body, and you felt his thick, hard length on your back. His large hand went around your neck. 

He bit your earlobe gently and said, “You call me anything but Daddy, Y/N, and you won’t fucking walk for a week. Now I will have my way with you. You squirted for Seokmin. You are a filthy little slut. Only whores squirt like you did,” Mingyu whispered in your ear, and his words shot straight to your pussy. If you thought you could, you would cum at that moment. 

“Mingyu, please fuck me,” You heard him telling you to call him Daddy, but you wanted to be a brat; you wanted him to fuck you hard. There was another slap to your ass. 

“You want to play it like that, Y/N? Okay, princess, you do that. Just know I’m going to use your pussy to store my cum, and you better keep it in there. When I’m done, Minghao can lick it out of your cunt.” 

“Gladly, Mingyu. I want that sweet little pussy on my mouth,” Minghao said in agreement.

Mingyu pushed his cock into your cunt without warning, resulting in a loud moan from you. You’d been sleeping with him for four years, yet his length would always stretch you out, and you welcomed that burn. He started pounding into your cunt, showing no mercy. He wrapped his arm around your waist and snaked his fingers to your clit. starting to rub. 

“Fuck Daddy,” you moaned. 

“So fucking good,” you praised. You were on the precipice of your second orgasm of the night. Mingyu knew and just fucked you harder as he worked his fingers quickly against your clit. You felt something snap another word.., and you came. Mingyu let out a loud groan at your cunt clenching around his cock. He didn’t stop; he just kept pounding into your wet and now sensitive cunt. 

“Daddy, please, too much,” you whined, but you didn’t actually mind.  

“What did I tell you, Y/N?” Mingyu asked.

“That I’m your little cum slut, Daddy,” you replied, moaning. Your words did something to Mingyu because he let out a growl and started rutting his hips into your cunt even harder, at a pace you didn’t think was possible. He wrapped his hands around your neck, choking you. 

“Daddy is pretty close, baby,” Mingyu told you in a low voice; you could tell he was. His breathing was getting more uneven. He suddenly pulled out of your cunt, making you whine at the loss of the contact, only to push back in and continue fucking you. You felt your legs shake, your limbs gave way, and your vision faded for the second time tonight. You were panting and crying tears of pleasure. 

Mingyu was satisfied, he had made you cum twice, and now you had just squirted all over him. He thrust into you a few more times until he reached release and filled your pussy with his cum. 

“Princess, you okay?” Mingyu asked as he softly turned you over and kissed your forehead. 

“Yes, I am.” You were exhausted, and yet you wanted more.

 “Good, pretty baby. Now walk over to Minghao and sit on his face.” You did as you were told, and the minute you placed your cum filled cunt on Minghao’s lips, you felt his arms wrap around your waist. “Don’t you dare let my cum drip out of your pussy. Let him lick you clean.” 

“Ready for me, baby?” 

You did not understand how one man’s tongue could bring you so much pleasure. You fisted your hands into Minghao’s hair, and he licked and sucked Mingyu’s cum out of your pussy. Long strokes of his tongue collected the cum that threatened to spill out of your pussy as he sucked at your cunt, cleaning it of Mingyu’s cum. 

Minghao mumbled something. The vibration shot straight to your now extremely sensitive pussy, and caused you to barrel into your fourth orgasm of the night. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you screamed because Minghao would not stop. 

His arm around your waist meant that he had you at his mercy. He kept flicking your clit, and sucking at it. Alternating between sucking and licking, you were so close. You felt two pairs of lips, one on your neck and one on your breasts.

You opened your eyes—previously screwed shut in pleasure—to find Seokmin’s plump lips on your nipple, sucking and gently using his teeth to tug at your swollen nipples. 

While Mingyu was the one at your neck, he was not kind about it. He was sucking and biting your neck, leaving no part of it untouched. You’d be purple and hiding your neck in a turtleneck for a while, but you didn’t care right now. 

The combined pleasure of all three men on your body had you seeing stars, and you came again, even harder and shook. Minghao licked a couple more times, making you shiver with overstimulation, and he loosened his grip around your waist. 

Seokmin and Mingyu helped to lay you down on the sofa. You sighed in relief as you finally let your body relax on the couch.

You noticed Minghao getting up off the sofa and walking away. 

“Hao,” you whined. You didn’t get to fuck him, and you were so desperate to feel his cock inside you. Mingyu chuckled as they slid two fingers into your wet pussy. 

“Sssh, Y/N. If I know Minghao, he’s just coming back with something to keep you in place,” he smirked as he fingered your pussy. While Mingyu fingered you, Seokmin leaned down to bring his mouth down to your cunt, and licked your now extremely oversensitive clit. 

He sucked and grazed his teeth on your cunt, pushing you straight into your sixth fifth? orgasm of the night. You noticed Mingyu lifting his fingers soaked in your cum to Seokmin’s mouth, who sucked his fingers clean. 

“Fuck, Y/N; you taste so good.” You thought you would not live through what these boys were doing to you. “God, I could honestly eat you out forever.”

Minghao came back with two scarves and a pair of handcuffs. You scoffed. 

“Hao? Seriously, Gucci scarves and Chanel-encrusted handcuffs?” He smirked at your comment.

“You deserve the best, and might as well use something designer when I fuck you so hard that you can’t walk straight when I’m done.” That shut you up quickly.

“Boys, hold the pretty slut down.” You shivered at his words; besides Mingyu, all the boys were shocking you tonight. They were grown men, but the filth coming out of their mouths was new—not that you minded in the slightest bit.

Mingyu and Seokmin grabbed your legs and spread them as wide as possible. You’re now dripping, with your aching cunt on full display. Both men let out a groan at the sight. 

“Hands Y/N”, Minghao spoke as he walked around to the sofa, and he was now standing in front of you as well. You held out both hands to him, and he tied them together with a scarf. Kissing your wrists gently, he then snapped the handcuffs over the scarf. 

“Hao, isn’t that a bit much?” 

Minghao smirked, his eyes dark with lust. “Baby, when I’m done with you, you’ll be glad these scarves provided relief.” With that, he grabbed you by your waist and flipped you over and onto your knees. You were struggling to balance on your knees now that your hands were bound.

You felt your ankles being tied together, too. “Minghao, how the fuck will I move?” You protested. 

“Exactly, baby girl. You won’t. I will fuck you and use your little cunt until I cum understood?” You were stunned into silence. Minghao took your silence as disobedience, and you were punished immediately with a sharp slap to your ass. 

“Yes, I understand, sir.” Minghao moaned at the mention of sir.

He positioned himself behind you and grabbed your bound wrists so your back was pressed into his chest. You were on your knees, ankles bound. Minghao slid his hard, thick and long length into your cunt.

“Ah, Ha—Sir, too much,” you choked out. 

Minghao kept pushing into your cunt, until he fully bottomed you out. 

“Sssh baby, deep breaths, relax. I’ll make you feel good. Okay?” 

You nodded, letting out a hum of acceptance. “Please move,” you begged. Minghao placed a kiss on your back in between your shoulder blades.

Minghao started pushing into your cunt; he began his thrusts slowly and growled at how tight you were. The pain from the stretch subsided and was now pleasurable; the position he had you in had his cock filling you up and hitting your g-spot each time. 

Minghao, on the other hand, was in absolute bliss. His eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. You were so fucking tight, and you were like a vice grip around his cock. 

Minghao bit down on your exposed shoulder and started sucking it. He kept going while he thrust his hard cock inside your pussy. You were in absolute pleasure until you felt something soft at your pussy. You looked down to see Mingyu snaking his tongue along your clit.

“Mingyu, fuck, so fucking good,” you moaned, had it not been for Minghao’s vice grip across your waist, you would have fallen over. You were drowning in pleasure as Mingyu kept licking your pussy. 

“Fuck,” A loud groan came from Minghao as he thrust into you harder and faster.

You felt a hand caress your cheek softly, and you looked to your right to find Seokmin staring at you sweetly. His cock was red, hard and swollen and begging for attention. 

“Seokmin, please fuck my mouth,” you begged. You wanted them all at once and in one go. 

Seokmin walked closer to you and put his hands into your hair, making a makeshift ponytail, as he guided his thick length into your mouth. He let out a loud moan as he felt your warm mouth enclose his cock.

You tapped Seokmin’s thigh to let him know you were ready for him, and he slowly started thrusting into your mouth. Fucking your throat, you so badly wanted to cup his balls and make him beg and cum for you, but your hands were bound. That being said, the rate at which Seokmin was fucking your throat, you know he wasn’t far off. Mingyu’s tongue was still playing with your clit. 

Minghao kept pounding into you and biting your exposed back and shoulder. You were close to cumming, and so was Minghao. You needed to cum. Mingyu knew your body, and he could see it; he replaced his tongue with his fingers and rubbed at your clit. You shook and froze for a moment as you came, making Minghao moan and bite down harder on your shoulder as you tightened even further around his dick.

You knew Seokmin was close, his thrusts were getting sloppy, and he stilled his hips with one final thrust into your mouth. He gently pulled out of your mouth and kissed your lips. His hot cum spilling down your throat. 

“Good girl, Y/N,” Mingyu sat before you and kissed you, his tongue snaking into your mouth, tasting Minghao’s cum and yours. 

“Seriously, yY/N. You’ve been a very good girl.” Mingyu snaked his fingers down to your clit again and fingered your clit harder, and you shook and came again. You had lost count of how many times you came tonight. Minghao pushed into you one last time and stilled his moving hips, his cum painting your walls. He kissed all the spots he bit and undid the ties around your ankle.

Just when you thought you’d get relief of some sort—as you felt Minghao undoing the scarves around your ankles lightly, massaging the area. You were immediately carried and placed on to Mingyu, sitting, his dick hard and waiting for you. 

Minghao carried you onto Mingyu and put you down onto Mingyu’s cock. You let out a strangled cry, you were so sensitive and yet you wanted so much more. Mingyu wasted no time and started thrusting his hips upwards. He set a brutal pace, and you were so fucking close to cumming again. 

“Mingyu, please. Daddy, I need to cum,” you begged, and Mingyu’s eyes softened.

“You will, with me,” and with that, he pounded into your cunt hard as he could. You still needed to finish, and Mingyu immediately put his fingers on your clit and rubbed the swollen nub, making you squirt all over him. You felt him getting close just from how shallow his breaths were. He still his hips and held you close, and came inside you.

You were a sobbing and moaning mess. You felt so good, so worn out, yet you wanted more. You felt Mingyu lift you off his lap and place you on the sofa. He undid your bound wrists, kissing them. He pulled you into his side and started kissing you; his kisses were soft and gentle. Before you could melt into his tenderness, you felt two tongues on your pussy. You tried to squirm away, but Mingyu gripped you harder. He knew he wrecked you.

You looked down to see Minghao and Seokmin at your cunt, lapping up your release and Mingyu’s release. You noticed how both tongues would meet, and the sight had you so close to cumming. 

It didn’t take long for Mingyu to kiss you, all while Seokmin’s lips were sucking on your clit, and Minghaos’s long tongue collected the release in your pussy as you fell apart on their tongues.

The two boys lapped up your release, kissed your forehead, and sat next to you on the couch when they cleaned you up. You were practically curled up in Mingyu’s lap.

“You’re right, Gyu; maybe a fuck buddy isn’t such a bad idea,” Seokmin said with a chuckle. 

“This doesn’t just have to be a one-time thing, right?” You mumbled, loud enough for the others to hear you. 

“No, kitten, it doesn’t,” Mingyu agreed, kissing your forehead. 

[britcision]

Okay so… today is a little bit of a long one, so we’ll see if we’re back at Tumblr breaking length or juuuust on the right side

But! Finally, much anticipated, we have the man himself: John Constantine! Here to share secrets and save the day! (Not)

And! This chapter got us right up to the edge, next chapter is gonna push me over to one MILLION words on AO3 y’all!! I’ve been flirting with it the past couple years but finally we’re here!

So. Might push the next one out faster. Might slow the next one down, since we’re in heavy waters again. And, since we are in the heavy waters, Imma tag on some warnings:

1) we gonna be speculating a little more on Jason’s death in this one, from a couple of viewpoints. We’re also discussing Cass’s in particular, and its repercussions.

No gore or details, just some death themes, mostly from Jason’s perspective after he and Danny leave the manor (Jason’s second POV segment)

2) Bruce is gonna make some very bad decisions about stimulants and concussions, mostly off screen but it is mentioned at the end of our first Bruce POV segment

And now the links!

First and link to AO3:

Previous:

———————

Never Make A Promise You Can’t Keep

Constantine hadn’t been looking forward to discussing Amity Park with the Justice League. Not the first time he’d been sent, and not for a single second after.

But hours turned into days, days to weeks, weeks to years. He’d almost thought he’d gotten away with it and that they wouldn’t ask.

Which was probably what had gotten the big Bat’s fuckin’ attention, wasn’t it. Couldn’t possibly let the universe have something nice for Johnny Constantine.

Luckily it was damn hard to lose something in the House of Mystery unless the House wanted it lost. Today she was feeling merciful and gave him the book on the second try.

It’d have been nice if he needed to refresh his memory of the case. If the knowledge of Amity Park hadn’t been sitting like a weight on his awareness since before he’d been.

Honestly he could probably point to it from anywhere on Earth. Most magic users could, if they had the faintest alignment with death.

Amity Park was goddamn wrong, even if it looked like things had turned out alright for now. Still, there were types of wrong you didn’t poke at.

Going prodding around would only make things worse.

And now he had to go explain that to Captain Prod himself, and try and persuade the fuckin’ Batman that no news was good news.

At least the Superboys had listened when he told them to clear off until he could visit in person. They’d pinky sworn they were back in Metropolis, and he’d heard enough traffic to believe them.

They could just as easily fly straight back to Alaska, but they weren’t stupid. They knew how to listen.

(Possibly from trauma related to the times Young Justice hadn’t listened to him, but he’d take what he could get.)

Now he just had to persuade the Bat that he knew what he was talking about.

Constantine hated debriefings with Batman. The guy had no grasp of magic, which was perfectly fair for most folks.

He preferred that. It kept them out of his kind of trouble, meant he didn’t have to worry about them until it got bad enough they’d accept whatever snapped sentence he managed.

Batman though. Batman treated magicians like it was their fault that the world didn’t work the way he personally preferred. Like they had any say in the how and why of magic.

Asshole.

And now he wanted to scold John like a naughty child about something he had no way to understand. Well, fuck that.

For better or worse, the Justice League made Amity Park his problem. Years late or not, this was his show, and he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.

Thumbing quickly through the book, he kinda hated how easily it fell open to the relevant page. Like he’d already spent way too long looking.

Even he didn’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Not if he could help it.

Stuffing in his notes from the city itself he closed the book, left the House, and hurried to one of the closer zeta tubes. Didn’t matter which city he was spat out in, he could find one.

His number didn’t coax even a flicker of the usual dry amusement as he stepped out into the bat cave, scowling up at the massive screen.

League records. Great. He strode across the floor, hoping they could sort this crap out fast.

“What the fuck’s got you lookin’ into Amity Park?” He asked as the Bat turned to face him, book tucked under his arm.

None of his usual prevaricating or fucking around. No chance for the fucker to try his usual “control the conversation” shit.

If it had any effect whatsoever, it didn’t show. Damn white outs. Batman just stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up another page.

Constantine didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.

“Why did you mark Amity Park as a prank?” The big Bat asked in his stupid, gravelly tones.

Constantine rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mark it as a fuckin’ prank, I marked it as a no fly zone for your little lot, so again: what the fuck came out of Amity Park?”

Batman stilled for a moment, doing that annoying “human computer” bit again. John preferred each and every one of the actual cyborgs, even the ones that tried to kill him.

Then he turned back, swivelling the chair around to fully face John like a movie super villain. Asshole.

“Over two thousand legitimate cries for help came out of Amity Park, and were ignored. If they were marked for the Justice League Dark, you should have responded, not deleted them.”

And that sounded way too much like an accusation. And completely fuckin’ irrelevant.

Something deeply unpleasant was tugging at the edge of Constantine’s awareness, just below the irritation he scraped over the sense of impending doom he’d been ignoring for the last hour.

He pushed it down, scowling at Bruce as he crossed the last of the distance and slammed the book down on the table next to the keyboard, gesturing up at the screens.

Still not bothering to look. He didn’t want to fuckin’ know.

“Years ago, Batty. This could be time fuckin’ sensitive, so quit pissing me about an’ tell me what. Exactly. Got you looking into Amity Park.”

There was a moment of hesitance, and he just fucking hated that. Nothing that made Batman hesitate could possibly be… good.

The feeling at the back of his mind suddenly clicked. His eyes widened and he groaned, wishing he had something stronger than a cigarette. Maybe a bullet.

“Great. Just fuckin’ great. They’re here.”

Groping around behind him, he grabbed another swivel chair and folded down into it, elbows bracing on the desk and burying his face in his hands.

Well, this was the nightmare situation.

From the fucking death taint seeping into his fuckin’ skin, something extremely fuckin’ big had oozed its way out of the Realms, and settled itself in Gotham.

Batman’s attention had snapped to, the man suddenly alert and watchful as Constantine slumped.

One hand dove into a pocket for the carton of cigarettes, Bat Cave rules be damned. Not much fuckin’ point, but he wasn’t doing this sober, and his flask was too small.

For once the Bat didn’t comment as he flicked the lighter open, lit up, and took a long drag. Just focused that laser stare on Constantine’s face.

At least he’d grasped the gravity of the matter.

“What is here?” The Bat finally asked when it became clear Constantine wasn’t elaborating, sounding annoyed.

Constantine took another drag of his smoke. Some days nicotine just wasn’t enough.

“Start from the beginning, Bats. Tell me everything that led up to you lookin’ into Amity Park, and everything you found since,” he demanded, hoping there was still a point to asking.

“If this is time sensitive, Constantine, you need to tell me what is happening,” Batman growled, tensed like he wanted to leap out of his chair and loom like one of his fuckin’ gargoyles.

The bat sounded cranky. Fuck him.

Constantine fixed him with a level stare.

“Then you’d better get fuckin’ talking, hadn’t you? I need to know how fuckin’ bad it is before I know first steps.”

Batman hesitated a moment longer, then turned back to his computer.

“I can summon the League-”

“No time,” Constantine cut him off acerbically, shaking his head, “and might make shit worse. Just fuckin’… report. Gimme yer damn report.”

For all that the Bat loved paperwork, loved to bury them all in bureaucracy, he dithered another moment before nodding, pulling up…

Well lookie there, he already had a literal report typed up. Great.

Taking another long drag of his cigarette Constantine leaned back in the chair and scanned the document.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Or the extra details he could already tell he’d need, that had prompted the dull and clinical report.

**

Jason had tensed as Danny did. First because of the sudden alertness he could feel in Danny’s aura, even reduced back down to conversational levels.

(And that had been fun. The more times he felt Danny’s aura wrapped around him, the longer he spent with his chest tight and Danny’s presence right down to his lungs…

He felt cold when it went away. Almost lonely, surrounded by people. Fucking ancients help him, he was getting used to it.)

Was that what it’d feel like if he felt that Danny was in danger? A rush of adrenaline?

It was a little weird being so in tune with someone, but not in a bad way. Danny didn’t seem upset, just suddenly on guard in a way that the whole table noticed.

On guard, and… amused. And then he spoke and Jason tensed again.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

Danny could sense John Constantine. That was… Really not the strangest thing, but it didn’t mean Jason had to like it.

If Danny could sense Constantine, could Constantine sense Danny? Jason wasn’t sure if he should ask in public.

Tim had way less reservations.

“Wait, what do you mean? What just happened?” He asked, breaking away from Tucker for a moment. But at least Tucker also looked confused.

Danny shook his head, chuckling softly and finishing up his food.

“Oh, sorry. It’s Sad Trenchcoat Guy,” he added for Sam and Tucker’s benefit, both of whom relaxed like that actually meant something.

Sam was back in her original clothes now, although Jason hadn’t given her the thermos back yet. Once her parents arrived, maybe.

Jason stifled a snicker, along with most of the Gothamites. It was a pretty accurate description of Constantine.

“Still in the dark over here,” Duke put in, a slight frown on his face.

Danny shrugged again and grinned at him.

“It’s kinda a ghost thing. I can sense other ghosts, or certain kinds of magic users. Constantine came to Amity Park not that long after I died,” he explained casually.

Tim and Dick shared meaningful looks behind Tucker’s head, and Jason stifled another chuckle. They thought they were so discrete.

Dick leaned in again, arms folded on the table as he gave Danny his best innocent interest.

“Oh? That’s kinda weird, do you know why?” He asked casually. Not questioning where Danny thought John was now.

He wanted to try and lead them away from the topic, probably. Too bad for him, if he’d asked he might have gotten some idea of how far Danny’s power stretched.

He’d explained to Jason about his aura covering most of the city, although he hadn’t claimed it as his haunt. But if Dickie didn’t want to know, Jason wouldn’t tell.

Sam fielded the question, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

“We thought he might have come to help, since that was around when the ghost attacks started. He didn’t though,” she added bitterly, and Danny kicked her under the table.

“We don’t actually know why he came,” he explained, giving Dick a half smile, “he never talked to us. He did talk to some of the other ghosts though.”

“Wait, you can just do that?” Steph asked, her brows furrowed. Whether she was playing civilian or actually wasn’t sure, Jason wouldn’t put a bet on.

The amount most of the bat clan knew about magic and ghosts used to be that Jason was a zombie.

Which, as it turned out, was wrong.

Danny gave her a blank look, then shrugged again.

“I mean, yeah? You literally can just go ask half the time, but he was doing some fancy stuff. Binding circles and demanding truth, that kinda shit,” he added, making a face.

“He wasn’t popular among the living either,” Tucker agreed with a snicker. “Lotta weird questions for people, and no answers. We figured he was one of those occult nuts.”

“That’d explain the binding circles and truth thing,” Duke agreed with a solemn nod, folding his own arms. Honestly, watching them all play civilian was kinda adorable.

Tucker hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

“I mean, you’ve got me there. But he never tried to get anywhere near the fights, and then one day he just vanished. We got a ton more weird tourists for a while, but he was the weirdest,” he finished with relish.

Sam snorted again, clearly still annoyed about the whole mess. Maybe she’d been the one who actually wanted help.

Danny hadn’t mentioned how he felt about it yet, and Jason hadn’t asked, but they’d all been abandoned. Fucking Jason wasn’t happy about it.

“He was the only one who actually knew what he was doing,” she huffed, scowling at the table. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “So if he’s in Gotham, I’m gonna call it a bad sign.”

Privately, Jason was tempted to agree with her. John Constantine was a danger magnet, and Jason was half tempted to go and have a word himself.

Word in the Bat Chat was that Constantine was why Danny had never gotten any backup before. Danny himself might not be looking to start a fight over it, but Jason had Opinions on teen heroes.

And the adults who should have been protecting them.

Not with Bruce around though. He’d have to wait and see if Constantine stayed in town.

It’d give him time to ask Danny about the suddenly constant undercurrent of suppressed laughter he could feel.

**

In the bat cave, Constantine squinted at the picture Batman had pulled up from the gala. Not exactly the best picture on earth, but it was clear enough to tell. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, could be worse,” he decided, tossing aside his second cigarette butt. The report had been complete, he’d give old Bats that, and he’d even been allowed to smoke through it.

But a black gloved hand covered his when he reached for the pack again.

Fucker.

Constantine let it slide for now, raising both hands in surrender and then pointing at the screen.

“Looks like you’ve got the halfa. Not bad news, as it goes. He’s at least still half human, which is probably why your precious city’s still intact.”

He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if another ghost tried to set up a haunt in Gotham. The old girl’s Curse would have something to say about it.

Batman didn’t look noticeably reassured though.

“Enough stalling, Constantine. What is this all about? What happened in Amity Park?” He demanded roughly, and Constantine was grudgingly impressed.

Seemed like that ol’ bat hyper focus was going to win out over even a threat to his own city. Or he hadn’t been fully listening.

No bet.

Constantine sighed again, gesturing to the screen.

“You got a ley line map somewhere on this thing?” He asked, mostly just to annoy the bat a little further. Not like he wasn’t gonna give him the answers.

Batman hesitated for a moment, then set to typing. Probably… yup, going into the JL Dark files. Zatanna kept a helpful reference folder for the mundanes.

Constantine didn’t think they needed any more help than they asked for, but she’d been right this time and he owed her a beer for it. A second later the map was on screen.

Constantine nodded again, pointing to the general area of Illinois.

“Pull up Amity Park on that map,” he instructed, wheeling his chair back out of reach to pull out a third cigarette.

Both got him an annoyed frown from old Batsy.

“What is this supposed to mean?” He asked in the old gravelly growl, the map already obediently zooming in.

Constantine lit his smoke and waved at the screen again.

“Y’know what ley lines are?” He asked back, watching the map scroll around.

Not one with a search function then. Batsy’d have to find it by hand. Sucks to be him.

It kept him from focusing much attention on John anyway, so that was a win.

“I know the places they meet are magical nexus points,” Batman admitted reluctantly, like he didn’t hoard information about everything on earth.

Constantine nodded, not willing to entertain his issues.

“Amity Park’s on a dozen of them,” he said bluntly, and watched the guy stiffen.

Zoom out a bit, find the flowering spot where damn near every ley line through that part of the world crossed. Zoomed back in to find Amity Park.

The bat scowled at the screen for a while, then at John, who’d put his feet up on the desk. Tough titties, they weren’t coming down.

“But what does that mean, Constantine,” he growled, and John sighed.

Cupped his hands in front of him, paused, and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m crap at metaphors so bear with me. You know about multiple dimensions?” He asked and the bat nodded impatiently.

Like he shouldn’t have asked. Like this fucker hadn’t just asked for the fuckin’ kindergartener explanation.

Whatever.

“Yes. There’s a different dimension on the other side of the ley lines?” He asked, and Constantine did his very best not to roll his eyes.

Well. Maybe not his very best.

But he didn’t do it as hard as he could have.

“No. There’s way too many other dimensions. But what the ley lines do is weaken a place in this dimension, especially where they cross. Amity Park is a fuckin’ sieve,” he said with finality, waiting for the Bat to catch up.

And sure enough, those frown lines etched themselves deep again. This guy was gonna make John Fuckin’ Constantine look like a fresh faced baby.

“So other dimensions can cross through?” He asked again, and John sighed.

Reductive fucker.

“No. Yes. Sort of. Because some stupid motherfucker in Amity Park didn’t just use the natural portals or holes; they punched a fuckin’ permanent portal to the Infinite Realms.”

Honestly using the natural portals would have been bad enough in his opinion. Reality was basically swiss cheese in Amity, and getting anything’s attention would be beyond dangerous.

He hadn’t even liked visiting.

Batman looked more stoic, which John assumed meant he wasn’t keeping up. Scrubbing his free hand through his hair, he blew out a stream of smoke and frowned.

“So you get natural portals between our dimension other dimensions. It’s how all that “evil other self” crap keeps happening. With me?” He asked dryly.

The bat nodded without speaking, which was as close to an admission of confusion as Constantine figured he’d get.

Whatever.

“You get more portals on ley lines, and more again where two cross. About a dozen cross in Amity Park, so they get lots of natural portals. Yes?”

The bat nodded again, face pinching up like he resented John’s tone. Double tough, he’d had every chance to read Zatanna’s primers.

If John was doing Ley Lines For Dummies the dummies could keep their attitudes to themselves.

“Natural portals, they open and close on their own. Rest of the world, they don’t usually stay open for long. They need power to stop the world from… mending the hole.”

Which was the worst fucking explanation of all time and not remotely what happened, but who fucking cared. Batty wanted to weigh in again.

“So natural portals also stay open longer around Amity Park,” he growled, trying to get to the next step of the explanation.

Which, actually, John hadn’t really thought about. Pursing his lips, he let his gaze drift to the smoke swirling around the ceiling.

There were actual fucking bats up there.

Of course there were.

Dramatic bastard.

Forcing his attention back to the bastard in question, he waved a hand to dispel the last stream of smoke.

“Doesn’t matter what natural portals do. Some asshole went to the spot in reality most likely to break on its own, and decided to punch a hole. A permanent hole, into the Infinite Realms.”

Batman took a deep, even breath in, like he was trying to hold onto his temper. Yeah, well, he’d walked face first into Amity Fuckin’ Park, now he had to join John in Hell.

“What are the Infinite Realms?” He asked, sounding as patient as ever. Brownie points for trying, John wasn’t going to.

“It’s where the unclaimed dead go. Souls not ready to move on, souls that were never born, and, much worse, it occasionally pops out personifications of forces or belief,” he ground out the last words, teeth gritting in spite of himself.

The bat stilled for a long moment, drawing in another slow, steady breath. Probably counting to ten.

“What.” It wasn’t even a question really, a flat statement of dissatisfaction.

It meant not talking about Amity Park for a bit longer though, so Constantine leaned in.

“God shit. Concepts like Time, Hope, Growth. Anything that someone, somewhere, truly believes in. Well, not just anyone,” he corrected, and Did Not enjoy the way Batman’s jaw clenched.

Not even a bit.

“It takes a lot of juice, makin’ a whole entity. But the Infinite Realms are the core of all the dimensions, the intersection they all go through, and that’s where the belief settles. The more people who believe, the more clearly they believe it, and eventually you get enough to form a personality.”

He gave the bat a little time to digest that one. To really let it sink in what a fuckin’ problem the Infinite Realms could be.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“Your city’s got one, y’know?” He mentioned almost as an afterthought, and Batty Did Not like that.

His head snapped up, white outs narrowing to slits as he glared.

“What?!” He demanded sharply and Constantine waved a hand.

“Gotham. Dunno if it’s all the shit you lot go through, or the stubborn arseholes that live ‘ere, but Gotham has a city spirit.”

No need to mention the curse yet. Batsy was already having a day.

That’d be for the next time he ticked Constantine off.

This time, just that revelation seemed to have been enough to stun the bat. Constantine left him to sit in this one until he was ready though.

Processing.

He wasn’t completely heartless.

He was a little grudgingly impressed by how quickly Batman put it aside and refocused on the matter in hand.

“And that’s why the Infinite Realms are dangerous? These powerful personifications?” He asked cautiously, like he expected John to say no again.

Smart man.

Constantine gave him a dry smile.

“If fuckin’ only. There’s spirits in there, Ancients, and every one of ‘em could give Darkseid a run for his money. But even the ghosts of the Realms are a fuckin’ dangerous lot. You know Deadman?”

The bat nodded to indicate that he did, brows furrowing.

“He can’t be seen or heard without magical assistance,” he agreed, that same caution present.

At least he was a quick learner. Constantine nodded in satisfaction.

“He’s a ghost made by magic. Ghosts from the Realms don’t have anything like the same limitations. They can’t be seen or touched unless they want to, and they can damn well affect the world around ‘em.”

John shuddered, remembering some of the attacks he’d seen. Nothing stronger than a baseline demon, but the damage you could do when no one else could touch you, or stop you…

And he shook his head, locking the damage back down.

“And worse, they’re fuckin’ unpredictable. Demons, they’re easy. They all want the same shit. Realms ghosts? If one of ‘em decides fuckin’ cheese is their obsession, that’s it. They’ll drown a city in cheddar.”

The bat was staring at him again, back on that stoic “I have no idea what’s happening so I’ll look big and scary til it all makes sense again” bullshit.

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look. I ain’t even told ya the worst of it yet. How about we jus’ take it as read that the Infinite Realms are bad fuckin’ news, okay?” He asked as patiently as he could.

There was that little twitch, that little scrunch again. Not a happy Batty.

And he wasn’t gonna get happier while he made John teach him Magic For Dummies either.

But he nodded, folding his arms reluctantly.

“Then why did you leave the people of Amity Park to face them alone?” He asked bluntly, and… well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

Constantine stared blankly at him.

“You want Superman gettin’ body hopped by a ghostie craving all the cheddar in the mid west?” He asked in turn, and there it was.

The little indrawn breath. The fuckin’ scale of the problem.

Fuckin’ FINALLY.

“Look, Amity Park has a hero. Had. The halfa.” He waved vaguely at the screen again, the picture of Bruce’s mystery kid now buried several windows deep.

Didn’t matter.

“He’s got all the powers the ghosts do, an’ can’t be possessed. Last thing the poor little fuck needed was to face an overshadowed super.”

And yeah, the Bat still didn’t look happy (more to the better, that’d be a terrifying sight all on its own), but at least he had a reason for resting bitch face now.

Constantine sighed, waving a hand vaguely and tossing the latest butt down.

“Look, I can’t stop ya from pokin’ around. Not for lack of trying, mind. The Realms are a dangerous place, an’ Amity Park’s practically on the other side already. I dunno why the kid left, I don’t care. You though, Bats? You’re gonna do me a proper fuckin’ oath.”

He levelled his best serious stare, useless as usual against the damn white outs. It’d kill the asswipe to look human.

Batman shifted again, clearly feeling the weight of the last word.

Good.

“An oath?” He asked warily, and Constantine nodded, holding out his hand.

“On yer name, on yer blood, on yer tie to this fuckin’ city. No matter what you do lookin’ at the Infinite fuckin’ Realms. You do not. Fuck. With the Ghost King.”

The bat stared down at his hand like there was something wrong with it. John assumed anyway. The pissy face could be for anything.

And then he asked the question, because of fuckin’ course he did.

“What is the Ghost King?”

John sighed heavily, leaving his hand where it was, waiting for the oath.

“The prettiest fuckin’ princess of them all, what d’you fuckin’ think. The Ghost King rules the Infinite Realms, and by all accounts the last one was a bloody tyrant. Good news is he probably never noticed Amity Park yet, cuz America isn’t a smoking crater.”

Honestly, maybe he’d add a chapter to Zatanna’s document. Stamp it all across any reference anyone tried to make to Amity Fuckin’ Park so he never had to do this again.

He caught the Bat’s gaze again, weighting his words with enough power that every sound in the cave died around them.

“It took all the damn Ancients to seal Pariah Dark once. And someone’s beaten him, and taken his throne. I don’t fuckin’ know who, I don’t ask, but if they’re tough enough to beat Pariah, they are beyond what the League can do. Your only chance is to stay the fuck outta their way. Swear it.”

Batman stared at him for a long moment, and then down at the outstretched hand. Reached out and clasped it in his own.

“I swear. I will not knowingly upset the Ghost King.”

John gripped tighter, realized almost immediately that it was pointless against the reinforced gloves, and did it anyway.

“None of that, Batty. No bullshit. You do not fuck with the Ghost King. You hear the faintest goddamn whisper of their name, you turn tail and fuckin’ run. We will not survive their attention.”

He stared the stupid white outs down, as long as it took, and didn’t let go. Batman stared at him for a while, clearly absorbing the gravity of his words.

Constantine couldn’t remember asking a member of the League to swear to anything before. Usually he was the buyer in deals, not the keeper.

Woulda been nice to remain so, but nothing stopped the fuckin’ bat from sticking his nose in, so here was John Constantine, last condom of the universe.

Last desperate scrap of protection against a fuckin’ dick.

Finally the bat nodded, grip tightening in return.

“I swear. I will not engage with the Ghost King.”

**

Harley had gotten back just before Sam had to leave, with perfect timing to see her to the door actually.

The look on Pamela Manson’s face when Harley kissed Sam on each cheek and waved her off would keep Danny warm on cold nights.

A quick check of flight times back to Massachusetts (like Danny wasn’t going to take shortcuts) confirmed that Tucker could have one more night in Gotham.

Tim immediately offered to put him up in Wayne Manor again, clearly not allowing the chance to slip by him two nights in a row. Tucker was only too happy to accept, although Steph and Cass begged off.

Probably for their hero patrols. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how many vigilantes Gotham had, there seemed to be a new one every few months, but having eight of them at the gala last night probably meant all the rest had been out.

Obviously Red Robin wouldn’t be out tonight either, but there were enough of them to cover for each other.

Danny was kinda jealous of that. It had been just him for so long, and then him and Valerie, which hadn’t been better until she stopped hunting him too. He’d have loved a night off.

Still, their numbers meant that Jason probably wouldn’t need to go back to the night life unless he actually wanted to. He was definitely still built for it, but Danny couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to ask him to.

Most of the bats had clearly had their own run ins with death, but Jason’s had stuck in ways even Danny knew he didn’t quite get.

Jason had been so tense at just the thought of Danny being a teen hero. It wasn’t like that’d get easier when it was his little siblings swinging from rooftops.

Danny’s hero career might have started with his own death, but he personally was of the opinion that that’d be a perfectly fine reason to end one too.

So Dick, Steph, and Cass headed out not too long after Sam, and Danny wasn’t exactly surprised when Jason’s background angst jumped.

He’d stayed on edge since Danny and Bruce got back, even when Harley told them Bruce was off dealing with his own shit and probably wouldn’t be out of his room all night.

Danny’d bet fifty bucks that the arrival of Constantine actually meant Bruce was in the bat cave being suspicious, but he wasn’t gonna say it.

Tim had shown them to a games room, for all that he’d apparently also moved out. He still knew where everything was, and soon had them hooked up for Mariokart on the biggest TV Danny ever saw.

They’d played a couple rounds (Harley was expectedly devastating with red shells) and while Danny and Tucker were having fun, he could feel Jason stressing.

Like, even if he stuck his fingers in his ears and ignored the aura. The guy was tensed so tight his shoulders strained at his shirt, which woulda been visually interesting if Danny didn’t know why.

Cass was one near death experience from slipping back across the boundary for good.

Cass was off punching criminals with rocket launchers in body armour and spandex.

Duke was probably actually in bed, Signal did morning patrols, and Damian was obstinately refusing to play video games with them perched on the back of the couch, but still.

Dick and Steph had both given one life to the cause too, and for all Dick was a cop and in danger on his day job too, cops pretty famously showed up after the vigilantes ended the party.

More than half Jason’s immediate family were back in the line of fire and Danny could practically taste Jason’s Obsession eating away at him.

As much as he tried to pretend he was playing along and gave a shit about winning, the controller creaked in his hands more than a couple casual races should allow.

So, yeah, if he couldn’t get Jason to crack a smile with this one, he was gonna gently bow them both the fuck outta the manor.

He kept half an eye on Tim, who had a glass of water.

“Hey, you guys heard the theory about Batman?” He asked casually, just as another round of Mariokart started.

Jason kicked him in the ankle but otherwise ignored him, which was fair. He’d been exposed to Danny’s bullshit.

Tim stiffened and then forced himself to relax, Tucker rolled his eyes and jostled Danny from his other side, but it was Harley who answered.

Innocent as the day she was born.

“Oh? What? Is it that he’s a lizardman? Cuz I got right up on that cowl and he’s definitely a mammal,” she said casually, not even looking away from the screen.

Danny was pretty sure he heard Damian almost slip off his perch.

He was a little bit in love with Harley Quinn. He should get her number for Jazz, maybe his big sister would learn to have a little fun.

Grinning broad and only half fake, he drifted a turn to pick up a double item from under Tucker’s nose.

“Shit, yeah, you might actually know! It’s his secret identity!” He exclaimed cheerfully, and felt the tension in the room ratchet up.

From Tim and Damian. Jason… still wasn’t paying attention.

Not like he was deeply immersed in the game, for all he kept up he was nowhere near the speed demon that handed Danny his ass the night before.

Hmm. Better get his attention.

Tim and Damian had already settled again, probably remembering he was already In The Know even if Tucker wasn’t, and Harley had given him a very knowing look right before she fire flowered him.

Almost ready.

He waited until Tim had taken a hasty sip of water on a calm stretch, nudged Jason in the shins, and made sure he was louder than the music.

“So d’you think it’s possible that Markiplier’s Batman?”

Tim sprayed water across the couch, Harley fucking cackled, and Jason snapped his head around to stare at Danny so hard he cricked his neck.

Danny red shelled him for good measure, just so he wasn’t missing anything on screen.

Tucker rolled his eyes, also deeply used to Danny’s bullshit and much more interested in gaming revenge.

“Fuck off Danny, Markiplier isn’t even a Gothamite,” he said disdainfully and Danny shook his head, grinning.

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. I mean, Batman wants to keep his secret identity a secret, right? So having an identity that very publicly “isn’t in Gotham” makes perfect sense!” He argued cheerfully.

Jason half snorted a laugh beside him, picking back up and speeding his way back into the race. Across the couch Tim wiped his face, still catching his breath.

“I fucking hate that that made sense,” he moaned, and Harley cackled again.

“Nah, he’s got a point! How does anyone know where a youtuber lives? We only see one room!” She agreed cheerfully, clearly leaning in.

It was so nice to have a true showwoman in the crowd.

Damian looked angry in the confused way now, and Danny would hazard a guess he didn’t watch youtube at all, let alone a lets player. That might have made it funnier, had there been no other concerns.

Beside him Jason huffed out another dry chuckle, shaking his head with the barest hint of a smile.

“I can’t believe Batman has an OnlyFans,” he said in a solemn, almost sorrowful voice… and dropped a blue shell.

Tim groaned like his soul had gone with it, clinging desperately to his first place lead. Harley cackled and added her own green shells to the mix, dropping all three as they came to the home stretch.

“Don’t forget the calendar of tasteful nudes! All for charity, just what Batsy would like,” she crowed with evident glee, and Tucker snorted a laugh.

“It’d explain all the surgeries,” he agreed reluctantly, and Danny had a sudden, utterly wicked idea.

“Hey… now that Batman’s on OnlyFans, d’you think he’ll convince the whole Justice League to do a pinup calendar, or just the other bats?” He asked innocently, watching said bats from the corner of his eye.

Well, Robins technically, but since only Tim was of age birds didn’t seem appropriate.

Tim himself threw his controller to the ground, abandoning the game and throwing himself over the back of the couch and almost hitting Damian on the way.

Damian definitely hissed at him like a startled cat.

No way Danny imagined that this close to the finish.

Tucker hesitated for a long moment, clearly considering his odds of winning, but when Harley blasted past Tim’s spun out corpse and across the finish line he abandoned his controller too to check on Tim.

Harley was surprisingly good at the game when flopped sideways on her chosen couch, laughing too hard to breathe. Danny breezed into an easy third behind her and Jason, giving the other man an assessing look.

A little wary of reaching out with his aura, especially when Jason was on edge. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Didn’t want to be too invasive, if he was honest. Danny had… kinda always been the one who was new to aura stuff before. And he’d gotten used to it, in the Ghost Zone.

He’d never spent this much time with another halfa before. Especially not without a single trace of punching or stabbing.

Except in Mariokart, where the Geneva Convention held no sway.

Jason had clearly noticed him looking though, and read the concern even without Danny pushing. He gave Danny’s shoulder a gentle bump, a nudge of fine-stop worrying alongside.

Danny nudged back, his own disbelief tinged with understanding-empathy-worried too.

But, that was kinda the other thing… the thing he didn’t really want to bring up around the other bats just yet.

And while Jason had smiled, Danny didn’t think he’d mind them dipping out.

Faking a yawn, he stretched, cracked his back, and looked over to where Tim had rejoined the couch.

“Honestly, I’m beat. I gotta try and get back into a better sleep schedule before classes start,” he said, pulling a face at the self-reminder.

Their break was coming to its end, and then he’d be back into university. His class schedule was flexible, more afternoons than early mornings, but he’d… miss this.

Free time to just spend the whole day hanging out with friends and catching up. Meeting Jason’s family, Jason meeting his.

Danny didn’t actually know what Jason did, whether he was working or going back to school, but it was gonna come up soon.

They had a trip to Frostbite to plan, some ecto shots from Danny’s fridge, and at some point he still had to introduce Jason to Frighty… and probably ask the guy if he wanted to be called that still.

It’d be a little weird to start calling him Halloween or whatever, but frankly him obeying Danny’s orders and calling him “my liege” was way fucking weirder so it’d be fine.

And about four more days before half of Danny’s time would be eaten by lectures, study halls, and projects. Fuck, maybe Jason would give him a hand with those too.

So long as he wasn’t sick of Danny by then.

Another quick glance showed that Jason’s face had reset into that tense almost-scowl again, staring past the TV.

At the other end of the couch, Tim gave a disgruntled huff.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that next time,” he grumbled, shifting to Tucker with an adorable moment of sudden concern. “Do you need me to show you to a room too, or…”

Tucker shook his head with a snicker, giving Danny a side eye.

“Nah, unlike that weakling I got used to the vigilante sleep schedule back in high school. I’m good for a couple more hours at least,” he bragged.

Danny flipped him off, hauling himself to his feet and giving Jason a nudge.

“Yeah, well, this weakling fought a croc last night and needs his sleep. Mind giving me a ride back?” He asked when Jason looked up at him.

Gently offered a touch of easy out-reassurance-trust me.

The deep furrows in Jason’s brows twitched until he caught on and his expression cleared. He nodded quickly and pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah, we can take my bike.” Then he hesitated and looked a little uncertain. “You never told me where you live.”

It took Danny a moment to realise that… no, he really hadn’t, because that just plain didn’t feel right. But no, he’d met Jason again in that coffee shop, then come to the gala with Sam.

Hadn’t gone home last night, just stopped at one of Jason’s apparently multiple places; at least he was doing better than Danny had thought from the first apartment.

He found himself chuckling at the thought, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, we’ve only been to your place… I’m at the south dorm at Gotham U, I can give you directions as we get closer,” he offered and Jason nodded.

He felt… weird? Like he was surprised Danny had told him where he lived, and ashamed of being surprised.

Danny decided not to dig into it, offering Jason his arm and bowing like all those Shakespeare plays he knew Jason loved.

“Shall we?”

Jason’s moment of surprise was quickly swallowed by delight and he bowed back, then tucked his hand into Danny’s elbow. Almost definitely knew etiquette better than Danny did, so Danny wasn’t gonna doubt him.

“We shall. I’ll drop you off and head home,” he agreed, then paused and glanced back at Harley.

Whose giggling had completely ended and was now watching them like her favourite sitcom. Chin in hands and all.

“Did you wanna meet up here tomorrow, or…” Jason trailed off, obviously also a little put off by her intensity.

She perked up when addressed, giving him a cheery grin and a double thumbs up.

“Here or th’ station, I don’t mind! Hey, did ya wanna come too, Danny boy?” She asked sweetly, head cocked to the side and just waaaay too innocent.

Not that Danny could work out what she was up to.

“Uh… to do what?” He asked carefully, head cocking to match hers before he noticed and straightened up.

Her grin widened, so she noticed.

“Oh, Jason an’ I are gonna go check on my buddy Waylon, see if we can’t work out what he was doin’ at the gala. If youse threw down he might like ta see ya there?”

Which honestly left Danny at a loss, until Tim explained.

“Killer Croc. His actual name’s Waylon Jones, and he was Harley’s tenant in Coney Island before coming back to Gotham,” he said casually, and Danny stilled.

There was an intensity in the room that hadn’t been there before, a sudden wave that sent a chill down his spine. Something from Harley, suddenly predator sharp in a way he hadn’t felt since Skulker had been a serious threat.

For the life of him though, he couldn’t put his finger on what though, since she didn’t move. Just grinned like she had been all along.

“People called him Killer Croc cuz of his skin condition. He gave up tryin’ ta change their minds,” she said with a light shrug, completely belied by the intensity of her stare.

Danny couldn’t look away until she released him, something satisfied in the quirk of her lip. Like she could see the sudden well of memory in his chest.

He’d never actually given in to all the things his parents had called Phantom. They’d been ashamed of all of them when the truth came out, and he’d only had to put up with them for a few years.

He tried to imagine decades of it, being called a monster for things he couldn’t control. For nothing more than a weird scaly skin condition.

He couldn’t imagine going full bomb vest over it, but Danny was man enough to admit he might just be a little touchy because of Jason’s death.

Which Waylon might not even know about.

Suddenly he actually did want to know why they’d attacked the gala.

Until now it had just been inevitable, someone was going to so why not them, but… well. He’d felt it under the whole plan, every stupid step.

Jason had trusted Waylon, not Danny, to keep things from getting out of hand. To know that a tussle was part of the fun.

Danny hadn’t planned on asking, but. Yeah.

“I’d like that,” he agreed quickly, nodding, at about the same time as Tucker found his own voice.

“Wait, that’s a skin condition? He’s just like that?” The techie asked sharply, staring around at Tim and Damian to confirm.

And got a disdainful look from Damian back.

“Tt, what else would it be? Do you know many scaled people?” He asked archly.

Danny’s mind snapped directly to Dora and her asshole brother. Knew Tucker’s had gone to the same place a second later.

“More than you’d think,” he and Tucker said in unison, and they shared a grin. If there was one benefit to their fucked up ghost hunting years, it was shutting down smart ass remarks.

Damian only looked more annoyed at being corrected, and Tucker shrugged.

“I thought he mighta been a scientist and tried to fuse himself with a lizard or something, like in Spider-Man,” he elaborated, and Danny kinda hated how much their lives resembled superhero movies.

Not that he’d say that in a room full of bats.

Damian’s brows drew down even further and he sneered, displeasure evident, but Jason cut him off before he could speak.

“Before you make a comment about mad scientists I’m gonna remind you we live in a city with Viktor Fries,” he said dryly and Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

Big brother privileges.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Ellie had given Danny those?

Tucker gave Danny a confused look, and Danny just shrugged back. He didn’t pay much attention to Gotham’s various rogues; he didn’t want to tempt his Obsession.

Tim chimed in again, without actually looking at Tucker which was kinda impressive. Guess they were just very obviously new to Gotham.

“Dr Freeze. He uses a lot of liquid nitrogen and freeze rays, he’s usually after money or diamonds to try and cure his wife,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Tucker made a confused noise.

“So… couldn’t Bruce just pay him off and keep him from bothering the city?” He asked carefully, glancing around the room.

Jason actually snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“If he could, he would have. What Fries wants isn’t possible yet.”

Not possible for humans. Part of Danny perked up, wondering if Frostbite might have the answers… but no. It wasn’t his job to solve every problem in the world.

Bringing healthy humans to the Zone was iffy. An already sick woman… well, she might get hastened along her journey to the afterlife.

And this was a conversation he really wanted to keep away from, honestly. Gotham’s rogues weren’t his problem. Couldn’t be his problem.

Danny fought ghosts, unkillable entities who enjoyed missile attacks as sport. He wasn’t interested in learning how squishy human rogues were; it had been bad enough with his friends in the line of fire.

Mega pass on being the firing squad.

He almost reconsidered the trip tomorrow, but… he trusted Jason. Trusted Jason knew where he was coming from, and that neither of them wanted to trip Danny’s Obsession.

So he gave the big guy a smile and an elbow nudge, nodding for the door.

“Not that rogue chat isn’t fascinating, but you were taking me to bed?” He asked hopefully, and only realised what he’d said when Harley stuffed half her fist in her mouth to laugh.

And now, now Danny had a choice. He could feel the heat threatening to build, and blushing? Blushing would make things much worse.

Jason’s cheeks had pinked and that was adorable and Danny would ectoblast anyone who gave him shit for it, but if DANNY blushed, Tucker would never let it go.

No, the better answer had to be to play it off, and what did you do to counter red in makeup? You added green.

Not that Danny had used ectoplasm as a fucking colour corrector before, but he might as well try. So he let his grin go saucy, eyebrows waggling, and tried a teeny bit of spectral ice to cool his cheeks.

It made Jason chuckle again, so he’d take it as a win, and Jason gave him another bow, hand still tucked in Danny’s arm.

“Your chariot awaits.”

Tim and Tucker mimed puking almost simultaneously. They were perfect for each other. And had no taste, so that worked out well for them.

Danny ignored them all and gave the room a last wave, heading for the door and tugging Jason along with.

“Night all, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Harley, and Tucker just text me when you’re up and we’ll see about getting you home,” he called brightly, definitely not about to stop no matter what anyone said.

Not even when Harley hauled herself vertical and call after them,

“Oh, Danny! If the bat calendars do come out, shall I grab you a Red Hood one?” She asked saucily and Danny felt Jason’s grip spasm in his elbow.

Which. He was gonna try putting together later, but tonight he really did wanna get out of there before long.

Who even was Red Hood?

Danny’d never seen him and he hadn’t turned up at the gala, so he didn’t have a guess ready, just like Batwoman.

A couple of people in one of Danny’s classes simped constantly over his thighs, but Danny now figured it was because they hadn’t met Jason.

It was probably easiest to agree, so he gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder.

“Autographed please!”

**

The headache that had lessened as he talked to Harley was back in full swing, along with a throbbing pulse in his temples and roiling nausea in his gut.

Constantine’s damn cigarettes weren’t helping, but Bruce just didn’t feel up to wrestling them away from him.

He’d expected… well. He hadn’t expected Constantine to come through full of fire and indignation, accusing Bruce of making the fucking mess.

His bad feeling had intensified too, not in the slightest relaxed that Constantine could feel that scrungly fucking kid all the way up in the manor.

No matter what Constantine said about the “halfa”, that could not bode well. Not with the look he’d seen on the man’s fucking face.

Steph called him an occult OSHA violation in a trench coat. Anything that scared him worried Bruce.

He could put up with some smoke and some pain to get the information he needed with a minimum of fuss.

He was beginning to wish he’d gotten some sleep though. Or could have someone get him a drink of water.

He’d shown Constantine the missed call logs from Amity Park, and the magician swore in ways that made Bruce see flashes of colour.

(That might have been the concussion talking, but Bruce could remember the almost buzzing swearwords he’d heard from Sam Manson and wasn’t sure. Nothing could be trusted.)

Not at the volume of the logs, that hadn’t surprised him. No, Constantine had gotten serious when Bruce shared the logs Tim had first shown him.

‘Earth is gone. The sky is green and Earth is gone.’

“Alright, that? That’s very fuckin’ bad,” the magician grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a flask for the first time since he’d arrived.

At least it wasn’t another goddamn cigarette. Little fucking meow meow magician.

(Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that one meant, but Steph usually said it with enough derision it had to apply.)

“So I assumed,” he gritted out, jaw clenching against another pang of pain.

Constantine levelled him with a blank stare. Bruce made a conscious effort to relax his face. The tensing wasn’t helping anyway.

“No, Batman. I mean really, really not fuckin’ good. They never called again?” He asked, and the sudden gravity in his voice sunk through layers of ache and irritation.

He sounded as serious as he’d been about the oath. That definitely wasn’t good.

Bruce shook his head, scrolling demonstratively to the end of the file.

“Not after this cluster of messages, all within the same day.”

Tim had all sorts of explanations for that. Bruce fervently hoped he was right and it was just pique on the part of Amity Park; he’d take them being angry with the League over anything else.

Especially anything that made John Constantine look that serious.

“An’ the town’s still there?” He asked, like that was a reasonable question.

Except… Bruce suddenly wasn’t sure. There were alumni from Amity Park, people who’d moved away, but the sheer lack of online information about the town itself…

They hadn’t even been able to get a clear satellite image.

He should have noticed that. He should have checked that. If he hadn’t been so twisted up in his worries about Jason…

But no, that wasn’t fair.

Bruce closed his eyes a moment, calming himself down. Breathing through the sluggish throb at his temples.

None of their Amity Parkers talked about the town like it was missing, or anything out of the ordinary. His children would have flagged it.

This wasn’t an oversight, but Constantine may know something that none of his family could have assumed.

He just had to get this finished. This briefing with Constantine, his report to the League, Jason… no. Sleep first, some pain killers, a more thorough scan.

Maybe a day of recovery, as soon as he could afford one. Wait until his head cleared.

Harley was right, Jason deserved the best Bruce could give him, and trying to talk to his son now would not go well. Bruce was only barely tolerating Constantine’s presence.

For all the man was alarmingly combative about this subject, he was a pussycat compared to Jason in a mood. Jason knew far more about what would hurt Bruce most.

Jason had always been what hurt Bruce most, ever since he’d held his lifeless body. Jason, and even the thought of one of his other children following him where Bruce couldn’t go.

No. He just had to get through this.

Refocusing on John-Bloody… no, that wasn’t helping either. On Constantine.

“From what we’ve gathered from people who have left Amity Park since, they still have access to the outside world.” He wasn’t quite sure what else he could commit to now.

It didn’t seem to satisfy. It didn’t satisfy Bruce either.

“Okay, but ya remember what I said about the fabric of reality bein’ swiss fuckin’ cheese around this city?” Constantine asked, his usual drawl starkly absent.

Bruce found himself tensing again. Wishing this was something he could fight.

“Yes. We haven’t been able to receive any satellite imagery of the town, nor any footage or communication online from within.”

He could pull up all the data, all the social media, but he knew Constantine wouldn’t care. It wasn’t what he’d asked for.

And sure enough, Constantine hauled himself back to his feet, striding towards the zeta tubes.

“Right. Well, guess we’re takin’ a field trip to th’ Watchtower, B-man, because you’re really not gonna like what I’d have to do to this lovely cave to get the intel I need. We’ll need every sensor you lot have, because that?”

Constantine half turned on his walk, finger jabbing at that last message. Barely even glancing in Bruce’s direction.

It felt like an accusation.

“That’s not fuckin’ good. That sounds like the Infinite Fucking Realms,” he declared darkly, trench coat billowing around him as he stalked across the cave.

Bruce almost flinched. Like he had no control over his expressions.

He needed sleep.

He needed answers. Needed to know what had happened, and what had to happen to fix it.

Needed to know they hadn’t let a half dead child take on an entire alternate dimension alone, because no matter how little he trusted the man Danny was, the thought of the child still ached.

Needed to know if that suspicion was actually justified by anything but his own inability to accept Jason’s clear. To have an unknown factor in Jason’s life.

Constantine’s reaction was one point in Bruce’s favour.

Whatever they found about the current state of Amity Park… would tell the rest.

He forced himself out of his seat to follow Constantine, hand straying to the pocket on his belt that held his emergency stimulants.

Alfred wouldn’t be pleased, the tiny pills carried an adrenaline boost that was wearing even at full health, but he needed to be sharp. Just for a few more hours.

He could pass what they learned off to Clark and Diana, and to his children when he returned. Just for a little while. A few hours.

Amity Park had gone unnoticed for years, as little as Bruce liked that fact. He could only hope that whatever threat it presented would lie dormant just a little longer.

**

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week, if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the pit dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half turning to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off Jason Todd, Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

Jason was gonna blame Bruce for this chronic overthinking. Definitely not something he’d had on his own.

He’d thought about it long enough that he could feel Danny tensing, and he forced himself to snap out of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t his business what Danny thought he’d get out of it.

In the end, there was no point second guessing what someone else wanted to do with their time. It was Danny’s call. Not his.

And that kinda helped.

He half shrugged, leaning back into Danny for a moment and tugging him forwards again.

“I mean, we’re not “Thanksgiving at each others’ houses” close, but… he’s helped me out since I came back. More than I expected anyone to. I don’t mind if you wanna meet him,” Jason explained.

Danny obediently moved back into position to go, his aura a gentle hum of curiosity-concern-interest at Jason’s back.

“So do I make my own way, or…”

“I’ll come get you, probably around eleven?” Jason offered, definitely NOT thinking about Danny being back in this same position very soon.

He was gonna have to get another helmet for the bike. Immortal Ghost King or not, it just felt rude at this point.

**

After Danny and Jason left, Tim, Harley, and Tucker played a few more rounds of Mariokart together. Switched to a couple other games. Damian abandoned them almost immediately, disappearing half way through a round.

Probably to start a patrol of his own, or go try to spy on Danny and Jason.

Eventually Harley wished both the boys well and headed out with a cheery wave.

“Right, maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow or maybe not, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called cheerfully, then paused and pointed at Tucker. “An’ keep an eye on Tim. Make sure he sleeps.”

Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from their new round of SpiderHeck to wave her off. Tucker did, and Tim took advantage to swing across the map and cut him down with a lightsaber.

Amateur.

“Huh? Oh, sure! Fucking hell Tim,” Tuck complained as his attention switched back to the defeat screen.

Tim snickered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t keep your head in the game,” he teased smugly. Tucker poked him in the face.

“Not my fault I have enough manners to look at people when they talk to me. So is Harley gonna be staying in the manor too?” He added curiously, glancing around.

They easily had the rooms for it, though Tim didn’t really wanna think about it. What might Harley get up to on a 2am snack run?

Although it wasn’t that far from 2am now.

“I don’t think so, she has a place in the city at the moment,” he mused, his mind beginning to shift.

It wasn’t that he’d been waiting for witnesses to clear out, exactly. Everyone was in on the secret, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to head down to the Bat Cave even when they had the larger group.

It was just… they’d been having fun. It’d be rude to leave their guests, and Bruce was already being cranky down in the cave.

Of course, Tim’d gotten another ping on his zeta tube monitoring program an hour or so ago. Constantine and Bruce both checking out, probably to the Watchtower.

So it’d be safe now, and they’d reached an okay stopping point. Tim had no doubt that Tucker would prefer checking out the cave over any games.

Tim couldn’t let him on the bat computer yet, but he could show Tucker a couple of Tim’s better scanning programs. Maybe even ping Babs and see how the others were doing.

See if she had time to talk to Tucker in person. Maybe he could show them both how he’d encrypted that server, which Tim suspected would involve ectoplasm.

Not like he couldn’t link the PDA to an un-networked monitor so that they could all see what he was doing though. Hell, they could record it for Bruce.

He’d love having answers to the Amity Park problem. If Tucker would let Tim run the PDA for a few minutes…

Still, it was just good manners to check in.

Alfred would be thrilled that they were learning to communicate.

Pulling out his phone, he shot Bruce a quick text.

‘Hey, we’re gonna head down to the Cave. You mind if I give a tour?’

It didn’t take long to get a reply, which was usually a good sign. It meant Bruce wasn’t hyperfocused enough to ignore his phone.

Maybe things with Constantine were going well.

The length of the reply wasn’t as reassuring, but not a surprise either. Bruce wasn’t exactly wordy in person, and only less so over text.

‘Go ahead.’

No indication of when he’d be back, but that was fine. They could compare notes whenever that turned out to be.

Tim turned to Tucker, grinning in anticipation of the other man’s reaction.

“So, wanna see something cool?” He asked, and felt gratified when Tucker’s eyes widened and a matching grin spread across his face.

But who wouldn’t be excited to see the Bat Cave?

“Hell yeah!”

**

Tucker followed Tim eagerly out of the games room, mind already buzzing with all the things the young genius might want to show him.

Did they have a tech lab in Wayne Manor? They definitely had the space for it, and it had to be safer than keeping one at Tim’s downtown apartment.

Bruce might not have been much of a techie but Tim was personally responsible for enough big developments that he was considered a prodigy even in Tucker’s circles.

Of course the guy had the advantage of near limitless money and resources, especially after Drake Industries merged with Wayne Enterprises.

With that kinda money, Tucker himself could have revolutionised the world. But, Tuck had the advantage of the Ghost Zone and ecto tech, so he wasn’t too upset.

Especially not if Tim was really going to let him see where the magic happened.

He did nearly let out an audible groan as Tim led him into an office and activated a secret elevator in a clock. Maybe Danny had a point… maybe all billionaires were dramatic assholes.

Maybe Sam had a point, and they were all evil. Maybe Tim was bringing him down to an evil lab.

Caution reluctantly seeped into Tucker’s excitement, but he fought it off sharply. Tim was a good guy, they were becoming real friends, and Tuck couldn’t believe a fellow techie would betray him.

Besides, no one in Gotham knew shit about ghost tech, or liminals. It wasn’t like Tucker would actually be in any danger from a scrawny nerd like Tim.

Even if he did have very nice shoulders. Shapely arms. An almost snatched waist that almost tipped to androgyny, but he carried it so well.

Anyway.

Tim definitely wouldn’t hurt him.

It was probably just a super secure underground tech lab, to keep anyone from stealing secrets. Tucker let himself hype up again, imagining the kind of security measures Tim could install underground.

It’d remove the chances of someone sneaking through a back window for sure. And sure, rock wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it stopped pretty much anyone else if you added seismic sensors.

It made sense, really, putting all Tim’s very coolest and most secret cutting edge tech experiments somewhere that no one would expect, and almost no one could get to.

Tucker found himself rocking forward on his toes as the elevator descended, and flushed a little when he noticed Tim smiling.

He was excited, sue him. It beat worrying that he was about to get his first go at the Danny Fenton Lab Experience.

Thankfully no one ever cared enough to capture the nerds.

Tim was quiet on the way down, clearly savouring the anticipation, and that suited Tucker fine. It wasn’t a long ride, and he all but bounced out of the doors as soon as they opened.

Stopped.

Stared around at blank stone walls, stalactites on the ceiling, and… a waterfall? A robotic dinosaur? A row of display cases?

This was not a super cool high tech research lab.

This kinda might be a supervillain cave.

Tucker’s heart sank for a moment, especially as he noticed more and more Batman themed pieces on walls and cases.

Bruce Wayne (please don’t let it be Tim’s secret project any more, Tucker couldn’t bear it) was obsessed with Batman. Collecting trophies.

Probably wanted to catch the hero himself and stuff him in a case. Rich people were all like that apparently.

Except… the locker room? Off to one side? Where a freshly laundered Red Robin uniform hung, neat and pristine?

Collector freaks never let anyone clean their stuff, especially if it might have had gross hero sweat to obsess over.

And that was the Batmobile, parked next to a large garage door. An array of motorcycles, and Tucker was no expert on Gotham’s heroes but there were at least three colour schemes.

Someone had been changing the oil on one of them.

A massive computer screen, surrounded by smaller screens at various angles, and as he approached in awe he spotted a bat sticker on almost every monitor.

No way anyone ever stole THE Batcomputer. People would notice. Someone would talk, there were legends about Batman’s set up!

Half Tucker’s class would have killed for a look at the tech, no way they wouldn’t know if it ever got loose.

Which meant.

Tucker knew his jaw had dropped. Couldn’t find it in himself to close it as he turned back to Tim, eyes wide, and watched all colour drain from the other man’s face.

“Is this the fucking Bat Cave?! Is Bruce Fucking Wayne actually Batman?!” He exclaimed eagerly, not even wondering why Tim suddenly looked so shocked.

This really was the best day ever.

Wait.

“You DO know the fucking Oracle!”

**

Well.

The curse of Robin had come for Tim at last. Bruce was absolutely going to fucking kill him.

But, okay, in his defence, it totally wasn’t Tim’s fault! He’d assumed Tucker already knew because Danny one thousand percent definitely did, he called Dick out in costume!

And Tucker was still trustworthy! Still an asset! And he’d help Tim get past the firewalls, get into Amity Park, all they had to do was get enough work done before Bruce came back.

And killed Tim.

For bringing an unknowing civilian into the fucking bat cave.

Best day ever.

Tim sucked in a great rasping breath, suddenly aware that he’d completely stopped breathing somewhere in there, and shook his head.

Okay. Snap out of it Tim.

Those nights with Alfred-supervision had made him weak, no way only thirty-six hours without sleep should have done this to him.

Too bad, sleep deprivation would have been a great excuse.

He wasted a moment lamenting his lack of immediate coffee and turned his focus to the actual problem: the Amity Park firewall.

Tucker was still staring at him in awe and triumph, though worry was creeping in. Tim pulled on a charming smile, walking to the batcomputer and gesturing for Tucker to join him.

“Uh… yeah, sorry, I thought Danny already told you or I’d have said. I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” he lied, like he’d have ever let the secret slip.

Tucker pouted then, folding his arms.

“Oh, of course Danny knows. Bet that’s how he and Jason met. So does that mean you’re…” he trailed off curiously, clearly hoping Tim would fill in the blank.

Tim considered being mildly offended that Tucker didn’t think he could be Oracle, but he valued his digital security. Zero chance Babs wouldn’t be pulling this video up later for a laugh.

He nodded to his suit instead, the new one hanging waiting. Probably for tomorrow night at this point, since there was no reason to change just to hang out in the cave.

“Red Robin. I ah… saw you last night at the gala,” he added sheepishly, wondering just how much of Tim’s minor breakdown Tucker had noticed while waiting to give Tim the tablet.

And Tucker’s eyes lit up, clearly remembering, and he grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Oh! That explains why you left, huh? I guess someone had to deal with the rogues and stuff,” he mused thoughtfully.

Tim had to hope he wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing. At least the discovery was going well so far; Tim couldn’t think of many people he’d had to share this particular secret with, and most of the ones who did had been villains at one time or another, but still.

Tucker was keeping up, wasn’t freaking out, and had gotten over his surprise in record time. Tim definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Tuck had been a vigilante himself after all, it’s not like he was a civilian. And had already admitted he didn’t pay much attention to vigilantes, so he might not even know which one Red Robin was.

It’d just. Have been nice if he was more impressed.

Not that Tim cared. He wasn’t Red Robin to impress people, and usually didn’t even think about it.

And Tucker didn’t seem surprised or upset when Tim steered him to one of the tables beside the batcomputer instead of the big baby itself, and got one of the un-networked monitors out.

“Pretty much. I get a little… antsy if a takedown goes too easily, because with Riddler it usually means we’re missing something,” he explained dryly, pointing Tucker to a second wheely chair to pull over, “but yesterday it was apparently just a shitty rush job on his part.”

Tucker snickered at that, wheeling the directed chair over and sitting eagerly beside Tim, still darting looks at the bigger screens.

“Should I be mad I didn’t get their best work?” He mock-pondered, and Tim snickered.

“Probably. But Riddler and Croc aren’t really A-listers or big on the mass destruction side anyway.”

“Waylon,” Tucker corrected almost absent mindedly, pulling out his PDA.

Tim missed exactly what he did next as he remembered Harley’s little tidbit, and he pulled a face.

“Yeah… I’ve not exactly had the one-on-one time with him Jason’s had, I don’t think we’re on a first name basis,” he explained, shaking his head as the monitor sprung to life.

Tucker snorted a laugh, flicking through screens on the PDA.

“What, Mr Jones then? Want me to just start downloading the Amity Park records first, then we’ll go hunting?” He added, and Tim nodded quickly, snickering himself at the vision.

Nothing threw a shining ball of confusion into a fight like calling someone “Mr Jones”. He’d have to try it if Croc… Mr Jones was gonna be back on the scene.

It was the name that went on all of his prison paperwork, so it wasn’t like it was a secret identity the same way the bats had.

“Honestly? Better than Waylon. And yeah, we can start with the government files and news reports, just so we have a backup. Then we’ll look around and find out what else B thinks we’ll need.”

Tucker snickered beside him, flicking quickly through screens on the PDA. Despite it being purely for his benefit, Tim pretty much ignored the monitor, keeping most of his attention on the device itself.

It was chunky and very retro, but given the processing power and space for storage? There was a definite charm to it.

Maybe Tucker would let him play around on it later.

But, in the spirit of not being killed when Bruce returned… there was one thing they definitely needed to talk about.

“I…” Tim sucked in a deep breath. He’d put good money on Tuck, Danny, and Sam being what actually solved Amity Park’s last calls to the League.

It might be a traumatic memory. Probably was. But he had to ask. And better him than Bruce.

Tucker looked up when he trailed off, making a curious noise. Not exactly asking what Tim wasn’t saying, but showing he’d noticed the pause.

Sighing to himself, Tim wheeled across to the batcomputer. Bruce probably still had the files up.

“I also think we need to talk about these,” he explained, pulling up the records for the Justice League’s missed calls. Hundreds of them.

Tucker just looked nonplussed for a moment, then sobered. Probably when the dates sank in and told him what they were talking about.

“Oh… yeah. Probably,” he agreed, sounding more serious than Tim had ever heard him. Which kinda proved Tim’s point about traumatic memories.

Leaving the records on screen, Tim wheeled back over, pulling out one of his larger recorders. This conversation might take a while.

“Do you mind if I just record what you tell me? B’s gonna want a full write up. He’s off ripping a strip off of Constantine as we speak, probably, cuz whatever he did… this lot went past voice mail and straight to the trash.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, wasn’t exactly an excuse, and Tim cut himself off before it turned into whining. The past was past, and it was too late to change that now.

Something complicated crossed Tucker’s face as he spoke, and Tim tried not to look too closely. Didn’t want his overly analytical side latching on.

The only thing they could do was work out what happened, and if there was still anything the league could do to make up for majorly dropping the ball.

Tucker sucked in a deep breath of his own, letting it out in a low whistle.

“Y’know, I thought we were coming down here for fun and tech talk,” he said almost wistfully, and Tim chuckled wryly.

“We can definitely still do that. It’ll just unknot Bruce’s panties some if we’ve got this part out of the way before he gets back. That way you’re just telling me, no “swooping menace in the shadows”,” he added half sarcastically, and Tucker laughed.

He looked… well. Haunted. But that wasn’t exactly a sensible descriptor for a guy who spent years hunting ghosts.

Not too bad though. No tremors, no tightness in the eyes or jaw that said he was hiding something. His skin was still a rich, warm brown, no paler than before.

If he was having a deeper reaction than the tiredness, he was hiding it in a way Tim couldn’t hope to spot. That… was probably the best sign Tim had seen about this particular shit show.

Chuckling to himself, Tucker checked the PDA one more time, then set it on the table and turned to face Tim directly.

“Yeah, might as well do it during the file download. Your setup is gorgeous, but that’s still gonna take a while. If you ask me, you’re not gonna need to ask Danny about it later, right?” He asked, and Tim bit his lip.

Less good sign. Seemed Danny carried more of the weight of this one too.

“B’ll probably want his side, and to check the stories match, but Jason won’t let him push Danny into anything,” he offered instead of a blanket statement.

Tucker cocked his head a little, examining Tim for a long moment in a way that made him feel almost… dissected. Like a piece of tech Tucker had taken apart, and was looking for secrets in.

Finally the older boy nodded and shrugged, leaning back.

“Yeah, fair. It’s damn hard to pin Danny down if he wants to leave anyway. There’s some Fenton tech that’d do it, but it’s not like you can get that here. So… where do you want me to start?”

Filing away that comment about the Fenton tech for later, Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the big screen.

“Do we have time to start at the beginning? The first calls?” He asked, half expecting the answer to be “no”.

Tucker glanced down at his PDA, and snickered.

“Well, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version. And then if you have questions you can ask?”

Which… yeah, Tim glanced at their little offline monitor. It was a pretty big download; Tucker had meant it when he said he was grabbing everything for them.

That had to be a sign of good faith, right?

And then after that they’d have to shift everything over to an un-networked hard drive. After whatever Tuck had to do to de-ecto it.

Shoulders settling, Tim put the recorder on the table before him.

“Sounds good. So… Tucker Foley, current top student at MIT and soon to be receiver of a Wayne Enterprises internship,” he teased, enjoying the way Tucker snickered again, also visibly relaxing.

Might as well make this as comfortable as possible. They could break after Tucker finished for some drinks or something.

“What happened in Amity Park?”

**

On the Watchtower, Bruce slid his phone back into its pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the pacing magician.

He’d pulled up every type of reading they could gather from Amity Park for the week of the last distress call, and from their current logs.

Thermal imaging, infrared and ultraviolets, seismography, electromagnetic waves, spectrography, and several that Bruce wasn’t sure what they were, just that the Justice League Dark were the only ones who used them.

The fact that even Bruce could see extremely obvious spikes on more than half of them was not a good sign. It made checking the dates almost superfluous.

Nor was the way that even though those spikes had lowered within that same day… they’d never gone all the way back down.

In every magical sense they could detect (and half a dozen scientific ways he was actually comfortable with), Amity Park glowed like a cartoon nuke.

The only good news was that their radiation sensors had gone straight back down to normal after the initial spikes. Which made no scientific sense given the normal decay of radioactive materials, but Bruce was not going to argue.

He appreciated Tim checking in though. The gesture towards clearer communication. He wasn’t sure exactly what Tim would want to show Harley in a tour of the bat cave, but honestly?

He wasn’t going to ask. It was nice to have something that wasn’t his problem, and he trusted Tim and Harley, together or separately.

It wasn’t like Tim would bring anyone else down to the cave.

——————

😇

I regret nothing.

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[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 10/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

Some of that promised fluff coming right at you. Also, sorry, I’m inflicting my other ships on y’all starting now, but they’ll be mostly background and you can ignore them.

Also, because I feel it needs to be stated: nothing in this chapter is meant to make you feel bad for, or sympathize with, Valentino. He is still a sinner, and so he is in a complicated situation, but most sinners are, and a complicated situation is not an excuse for evil behavior. It simply exists to further the story, as well as to highlight the fact that Val is a hypocrite.

•••

“What the actual fuck is going on in this hotel?”

Vaggie’s firm statement—which would have been basically a scream from anyone else—was out of her mouth the moment Alastor vanished from the room. Charlie watched as her girlfriend looked at the little group still gathered, the angel’s expression one of deep frustration. Nobody answered her immediately, because nobody else seemed to have any idea, either.

Dinner had been very, very weird. It had been good! It had been quite good, since both Angel and Alastor were fantastic at cooking and, since it was Angel’s recipe, there wasn’t any concern about what the… ingredients… might have been. But the mood had been weird, mostly because of the way the two sinners had been talking to each other over the course of the meal.

As soon as she had that thought, Charlie felt kind of terrible. After all, they were getting along, which was good. They were both in friendly moods. Alastor seemed like he was opening up to the idea of making friends, and that was amazing! But there was something else, something different, that she couldn’t quite identify. And now, it looked like she wasn’t the only one thinking it.

Charlie was sitting in the lounge with Vaggie, Husk, and Niffty; Alastor had been present for a few minutes, as well, but had bade them goodnight and vanished. Angel, by contrast, had gone straight to bed as soon as he was done cleaning up, which was also weird. Even if he didn’t want to hang out with any of them, he usually went out in the evening, if he could get away with it. And now, Vaggie was pacing, and that… wasn’t helping the energy.

Niffty was the first one who actually spoke in the weird silence that followed Vaggie’s questions. “Alastor and Angel are friends,” she said.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends,” Husk countered, leaning on the arm of the couch and pressing a half-full glass of ice water against his temple.

Niffty turned her head to look at him. “Alastor has Rosie.”

“Rosie doesn’t count.” Husk turned his own head just enough to return her frown. “Rosie is the exception that proves the rule.”

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Charlie asked, looking between the three of them. “I mean, yes, it… it’s a little strange, sure, but there isn’t anything wrong with it, is there?”

“You should always be worried about Alastor spending a lot of time alone with someone,” Husk said, turning his head away again.

“That isn’t even my point,” Vaggie said. “The two of them have been strange. I said as much to Angel Dust, and I know he knew what I was talking about. And I think the two of you do, too.”

Niffty tilted her head, but her expression was oddly neutral for the usually manic little sinner. “I won’t talk about it.”

“So you do know something.”

“Yes,” Niffty said, her tone not changing. “And I won’t talk about it.”

Vaggie made a noise of frustration. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not my business. It’s Alastor’s,” Niffty said with a shrug. “If he wanted you to know, he would have talked to you about it. But he didn’t. He talked to me.”

With a quiet noise of frustration, Vaggie put her face in her hands and walked a few steps away, muttering under her breath in Spanish. Charlie watched her with sympathy, but turned her attention to Niffty and Husk almost immediately. “We just want to help.”

“He doesn’t need help!” Niffty said, her expression morphing into a frown. “He knows what he’s doing!”

“No,” Husk said. “He doesn’t. Neither of them do.”

Niffty shushed him, but Charlie focused on the bartender exclusively. “Husk… what happened?”

“Don’t,” Niffty said, her voice lightly pleading.

Husk sighed. He looked at Niffty, and his expression looked sad. Complicated. “Alastor didn’t tell me shit,” he told her. “Angel did.”

Niffty didn’t look happy, but she looked away, holding her hands up like she was giving up on the situation. Husk watched her, and Charlie thought he might change his mind, but after a few moments he looked up at Charlie. “You can’t lose your shit over this. Either of you.”

“We won’t,” Charlie said, before Vaggie could get aggressive again. She reached out to her girlfriend, and when she reluctantly accepted her hand, Charlie pulled her back down to sit beside her on the couch. “We’re just worried and we want to know that nothing bad is happening.”

Husk closed his eyes and leaned his temple into the cold glass again. He looked like he had a headache. “…the kid talked to me one night about… I dunno. Two weeks ago, I guess. A little less, maybe. Didn’t want to, he made that pretty clear. It was when he locked himself up in his room that whole day. When I finally got him to get to the point, he asked me about… about soul marks.”

Charlie frowned. “He asked… …why?”

“Because Alastor, apparently, woke his up.”

Gasping softly, Charlie covered her mouth with her hand. “He what…??”

Vaggie, on the other hand, didn’t react at all. “Woke his what up?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“His— oh, right, you wouldn’t…” Charlie trailed off before she provided everyone with yet another reminder that Vaggie wasn’t actually a sinner. “It’s something that all sinners and Hellborn have. …well. Almost all,” she amended. “Nobody knows why they exist, but the best theory is that they’re another punishment that Hell created. They’re a mark that’s supposed to tell you who your soulmate is. When you meet and first touch, then your soul marks… become active, or wake up, and you know you’re meant to be together.”

“A perversion of the promise of happiness,” Husk said darkly. “Never seen it cause anything except unhappiness, myself.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed softly. “Me too.”

Vaggie frowned. “That… that doesn’t sound very happy,” she said. “Who would want Hell telling them who they’re supposed to love?”

Charlie shrugged. “Some people think they come from Asmodeus, but Uncle Ozzie assured me it’s not one of his spells. He doesn’t know, either.”

“I see.” Vaggie paused, and Charlie could hear her thinking. “…you said almost everyone,” she added, a little hesitantly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t have one,” Charlie said with a shrug. “But I didn’t think it was that weird. My parents didn’t, either. You know, fallen angel, human cast into Hell alive, it… it made sense.” She twisted her hands together in her lap, her mind conjuring up the sounds of her parents yelling at each other in another room, and did her best to banish it. “Husk, do you know… does Alastor…?”

“Angel said so,” Husk said, watching her with a critical, suspicious eye. She immediately stilled her hands. “But I don’t know myself, no. Alastor and I don’t exactly chat about that kind of thing.”

“So what are they doing?” Vaggie asked. “I don’t believe that, out of nowhere, Angel Dust and the Radio Demon have just… decided to give in to some kind of romantically cursed fate.”

“I don’t know.” Husk looked away. “And neither do they. That’s pretty obvious. But if they’re… plotting together, or something, you’re going to have to ask them.”

Charlie nodded. The silence was thoughtful, but heavy, and the princess watched the shadows on the wall flickering in the firelight. Eventually, Niffty spoke again. “I wish Cherri hadn’t moved out.”

Husk twitched, the ice in his glass rattling, but he didn’t look at her. Charlie looked between the two of them. Cherri Bomb had moved into the hotel after the extermination and Sir Pentious’ death, but only for a short period of time. It was less than a month before she was gone again, the stated excuse being that redemption was “boring and not her thing”, but it was so abrupt that Charlie knew something had happened. Vaggie squeezed Charlie’s hand, but spoke to Niffty. “Why?”

“Because if anybody knows what Angel’s thinking, it’s her. And she would be easier to talk to than Rosie.” Niffty glanced at Husk.

The maid didn’t even open her mouth before the bartender said, “No.”

“Husk,” Niffty said, clearly frustrated.

“No, Niff,” Husk repeated more firmly, looking down at her again. “She made it pretty fucking clear she doesn’t want to talk to me, and I’m not gonna get my head blown off for trying to get her to talk about her best friend behind his back.”

Charlie frowned. “…you know her better than the rest of us do, Husk,” she said. “At least, from what I hear.”

“She did used to hang out at the bar a lot when she was here,” Vaggie added suspiciously.

“Because she drinks like alcohol is her replacement for oxygen,” Husk grumbled.

Niffty made a noise of frustration and stood up on the couch (probably only because she wasn’t wearing shoes), leaning in to Husk’s face and pointing at the door. He immediately leaned away from her, stopped by the arm of the couch from escaping, his eyes wide and his ears flicked back. “Look,” Niffty said firmly. “I don’t care if you have weird hangups, and I don’t care if you’re not a real bad boy! You’re gonna man up and you’re gonna talk to her and you’re gonna figure out how we can help Alastor and Angel!”

Husk held one hand up. “Shit, Niff, okay, fine, chill the fuck out. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow, okay?”

Immediately, Niffty brightened. “Good!” she chirped, reaching up to pat the top of his hat before she hopped down to sit on the couch again.

“Um… thank you, Niffty, Husk,” Charlie said, smiling at them. “I guess that’s all we can do for now. We’ll keep an eye on them until we find out more.” Both Alastor and Angel were so volatile, there was no telling how they would respond to any level of probing.

It wasn’t long before they disbanded and headed off to their separate rooms. Charlie hesitated outside Angel’s door, debating knocking to see if he was okay, but she didn’t hear any sounds inside. Was he asleep? After a few seconds, she thought better of it, following after Vaggie and closing the door to their bedroom behind her.

It wasn’t until they had both dressed for bed and Charlie sat on the edge of the mattress, yawning, that Vaggie caught her hand and drew her attention. “Charlie… are you okay?”

Charlie looked at her. “I’m fine!” she said, far too brightly. It was hard not to cringe at her own tone, especially since Vaggie’s face told her that the angel could tell, too. “…why do you ask?”

“It’s… kind of obvious, babe,” Vaggie said carefully. “I know I don’t really get the whole soul mark thing, but I could tell it was getting you down. Is it because you don’t have one?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that,” Charlie said with a quiet sigh. “It was just… it was my parents,” she said, looking away.

Vaggie waited for her to expand on that, but when she didn’t, she asked, “Because they don’t have them?”

“No, it…” Charlie exhaled in a huff that ruffled her hair briefly. “They didn’t have them, no, not for a long time. …my dad doesn’t know that I know this, but… when I was little, after I had been put to bed, I heard them arguing. They didn’t really do that, ever, so I got worried, and I…”

“…you went to see what was wrong.” Vaggie smiled a little. “You haven’t changed much.”

Charlie almost giggled. “I guess not,” she said, returning the tiny smile before looking down at her lap again. “I went to their bedroom door and listened. I just wanted to make sure they were okay. And I found out my dad…” She twisted her hands in the soft silk of her pants. “…my dad manifested a soul mate mark. And my mom didn’t. And… and his wasn’t for her.” She gestured loosely and meaninglessly. “He said that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care about a mark, but for some reason she really, really did. It… I don’t think it ruined their marriage, but it sped it up, or made it worse, or… well, it didn’t help, at least. All it did was hurt them. I just don’t want to see that happen to Alastor and Angel, too. I don’t want this to hurt them.”

“Hey.” Vaggie took both of her hands in her own and made Charlie look at her, squeezing gently. “It won’t,” she said. “We won’t let anything happen to them, okay? We’ll find out what’s happening and we’ll figure it out.”

It was more complicated than that. Charlie knew that. But she knew Vaggie knew it, too, and arguing wouldn’t help. She had to believe everything was going to be okay. She had to. “Yeah,” Charlie said, giving Vaggie a smile that she didn’t feel, but she would soon. “We will.”

•••

Rage was exhausting.

It was even worse when rage was all you had to fuel yourself.

Valentino made another circuit of his room, his mind a cyclone of rage and half-formed plots with no middle part and a sickening feeling of Want that he had always associated with Angel Dust and had only grown darker, heavier… nauseating. The fact that his amorcito didn’t wear his mark was insulting enough.

But to know, beyond doubt, that he wore Alastor’s? That his beloved pet’s flesh was marred with an image bestowed by the soul of the Radio Demon?

How much am I going to have to lose to that fucking broken, psychotic little cervid? First Vox, and now…

Valentino seized a statue and threw it to the ground, where it shattered tile and burst in a cloud of stone dust. He didn’t even hear the door open, but he did hear it close.

“Val.”

Valentino tensed, his wings twitching on his back, before he looked over his shoulder. Vox was wearing his annoyed but resigned expression, his tie and hat gone, his jacket open, and everything about his demeanor suggestive of a very long day. The other overlord was watching him, and Valentino got the distinct impression that he was the current primary cause of that exhaustion.

“What the fuck do you want?” Valentino asked.

Vox’s eyebrow lowered further. “Look. I get it. You’re pissed,” he said, coming further into the room and waving away a small, lingering cloud of Val’s smoke. “But you have got to chill the fuck out about this.”

“How do you expect me to do that?!” Valentino snarled, rounding on Vox, his wings spreading outwards slightly on instinct. “How am I supposed to ignore this, Vox?!”

“Because… Angel Dust and Alastor are spending time together,” Vox said; it was phrased as a statement, but Valentino knew a question when he heard one.

Valentino forced his wings to lower, focusing on the light of Vox’s face. “…how have you not put this together yet?”

“Put what together?”

“They are soulmates, Vox!”

Valentino’s voice echoed in the sudden silence of the room. Vox’s eyes were wide as he blinked once, twice… and then his expression collapsed and he started laughing. To anyone else, it was a terrifying declaration of his mirth, but to Valentino… to Valentino, it was Vox’s disbelieving rage bursting forth in the only form it could without erupting from him as a scream. “You’re not fucking serious!” Vox cackled, his eyes flying wide as he stared at Valentino. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that Alastor has a soulmate? And that it’s your little arachnid whore?!”

Valentino narrowed his eyes, waiting for the sound of Vox’s laughter to die enough to speak over it. “I’ve seen Angel Dust’s mark many, many times. It’s a deer skull, complete with antlers. So you tell me, Vox. Angel Dust’s deer skull soul mark comes alive. He tells us that he has no relationship to break with his soul mate. And now, Angel Dust is seen alone, at a night club, dancing with the Radio Demon, who happens to be a deer. Is that the action your precious rival would take if Angel’s mark was unreciprocated? That would be very kind of him.”

Vox’s eyes were still wide, but his laughter had died down. His lip was curled just slightly, and it kept twitching, like he was fighting the urge to bare his teeth. “Val…”

Valentino knew he was pushing Vox, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Sounds more like Alastor must have a little spider somewhere on his untouchable skin. Wonder how that interaction must have gone down, don’t you, mi amore? And if Alastor has Angel Dust’s soul mark, it makes you wonder what they might be doing right now—!!”

Valentino’s voice left him as his airflow was choked off by something cold, hard, and oddly flexible. He reached up and felt what had wrapped around his throat—a cable, one of the thousands that Vox had threaded through the building and could control with what was functionally Wi-Fi but might as well have just been his mind—as it tightened and yanked him backwards until he lost his footing and hit the ground. His glasses skidded across the tile floor with a soft clatter, and Vox’s sharp heeled boots clicked ominously as he moved to stand over the supine moth.

“I told you,” Vox said, in a voice full of a strange and deadly stillness, “to calm down. You will cooperate, or I will beat you into submission.”

Valentino gritted his teeth, stilling in his struggles against the cable around his throat… but it was a different feeling, the memory of something else latched around his neck, that truly made him stop. That cold, heavy, sharp, always present, blinding electric blue…

why did I let myself give it to you

Valentino nodded, just once. Vox’s eye twitched, and the cable released him, allowing him to gasp air back into his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, pushing two of his hands against the floor to keep himself up.

He could feel Vox staring at him, but soon, the other overlord turned on his heel and began slowly pacing a short distance back and forth. “Let’s say you’re right,” Vox said. “Angel Dust is well aware of his deadline, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Valentino rasped. He didn’t push himself to his feet. There were times that he could test Vox. There were times that he was even Vox’s equal. This, very clearly, was not one of those times.

“…well,” Vox said, thoughtful. “More than likely, Alastor will take care of breaking the bond for us. Not by killing him,” he said, when Valentino moved to protest, “simply by being himself. I know Alastor. He destroys everything he touches. He can’t help himself.”

Valentino swallowed past the rage in his throat. “…and if he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, and if Angel Dust fails, then you will simply keep him here.”

Vox cast him a look, and Valentino knew he could stand up, getting to his feet. “Keep him here?”

“If Angel Dust fails to break the bond by his deadline…” Vox placed Valentino’s glasses in the moth’s hand, slowly folding Valentino’s fingers over them. “We will retrieve him. We have assassins on retainer, I’m sure they will be able to handle him if they catch him off guard. And then, you simply won’t let him leave.”

Valentino didn’t know what Vox was planning. It was something—Vox never proposed a plan if he didn’t have seven other unspoken reasons that he wanted it done—and it probably had to do with Alastor, because when it came to Vox… it almost always had to do with Alastor.

Valentino thought about the arch of his own foot, where he bore those strange lines that he hadn’t understood until he’d seen them on one of Vox’s electrical blueprints. When he’d asked, Vox had been in a patient mood, and had described them as the electrical symbols that represented a battery of three cells and variable resistance.

He didn’t tell Vox why he asked, but he still wondered if Vox had an antlered deer somewhere on his skin, too. He wondered, but he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to know.

Vox was pacing again, and Valentino delicately cleaned his glasses, replacing them. “He won’t be happy,” he said. “Mi amorcito is very vocal about his freedoms, and the princessa seems to think she can exert her authority over us. Are you prepared to deal with that?”

“We will be,” Vox said. He walked up to Valentino and placed his hands on the taller sinner’s shoulders, smiling up at him as he squeezed. “Whether they break the bond or not, it won’t matter. We will take care of it is they don’t, and either way, we will make sure Angel Dust never leaves your side again, if that’s what you want.”

Valentino nodded once, resisting the temptation to bare his teeth again. “I still want to kill Alastor.”

Vox tightened his grip for just a second. “You let me handle Alastor. Don’t worry,” he added, slipping back into that voice that Velvette called his ‘placating Val’ voice. “I promise you, you’ll get all the violent revenge on Alastor you could possibly want.”

Valentino smirked. “You’re so good at talking dirty to me, baby.”

Vox laughed softly, his voice crackling with electricity. “I’ll make your wait worth it, my little white witch. I promise. And I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

“…yes, Voxxy. Always.”

•••

The next couple of days were some of the most surreal in Angel Dust’s life. He was technically still in a recovery period after his last filming session, which meant some time to himself that he was supposed to use for recuperation. It was the only thing he’d ever been grateful to Vox for… well, that, and everything else that he was granted in the name of ‘the image’. It didn’t matter why Angel had the days off, of course, because it meant no VoxTek, no shoots, and (most importantly) no Valentino.

Usually, Angel spent these days doing anything except resting, usually getting out, going to clubs, getting his hands on drugs he wasn’t supposed to have, and staying out all night. Usually. But the night after Alastor showed Angel his radio tower, the spider woke up at a reasonable time, and even though it wasn’t quite noon yet… he felt good.

Angel touched his lips, remembering the warmth of Alastor pressed against him what felt like only minutes ago. The weight of his brow against Angel’s own, the sharp touch of his claws that could have gutted him but only gently grazed his skin, the anxious flutter of his breath as he tried to keep his murderous impulses under control…

…yeah. The fact that Angel thought Alastor controlling his murderous impulses was sweet… that was concerning. So was the fact that Alastor still smelled like death and blood, and it had been almost overpowering so close, but Angel hadn’t cared. Maybe he hadn’t even minded.

“Nuggs, I think I’m nuts.”

Angel rolled out of bed, dressed, and had just stepped into the hallway with a mind towards finding some breakfast or something when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Angel turned on his heel and saw a shadow disappear around a corner, and he couldn’t control the smile that practically burst onto his face at just that little glimpse.

“I saw you,” he said in a teasing voice, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a few steps towards the corner. “Why’re you hiding from me, big boy?”

Alastor’s shadow peeked around the corner, a funny image since it was plastered to the wall, and gave Angel a grin that almost looked shy. When Angel didn’t balk, the shadow came out of hiding entirely, swooping around Angel’s own shadow and sending a terrifying chill down his spine that made him giggle. It felt, somehow, like something had actually swirled around him for a moment. As though the shadow had realized that Angel was happy to see it, the form raised its hand and beckoned for Angel to follow before its smile widened and it seemed to fly down the corridor.

“Ah— wait!” Angel said, hurrying after it, but he only got halfway down the hall before a hand reached out from a small alcove and grabbed him by the wrist. He was pulled into the alcove with a sharp squeak, the force sending him into a dizzying little spin before he was suddenly pinned with his back against the wall.

“Hello, sha.”

Angel laughed breathlessly, blinking his dizziness away only to find himself looking into Alastor’s gently glowing eyes. “Holy shit, Smiles, you scared the fuck outta me. You coulda just knocked or somethin’, you know.”

“Oh, I know. This was more fun,” Alastor said with a sinister grin, tilting his head to the side. He the reset to his neutral smile as Angel laughed again. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”

“Did you send your shadow to spy or something?”

“Not… precisely.” He paused, and Angel felt one of Alastor’s claws stroke along the inside of his wrist. “…admittedly, I wasn’t sure you would want to see me right now.”

Angel snorted quietly and, clearly telegraphing his movements, he raised his higher set of arms to wrap loosely around Alastor’s shoulders. “Why wouldja think a silly thing like that?”

“Thought you might have come to your senses about last night.”

“I don’t got senses.” Angel regarded him thoughtfully. “Thought you hated being touched.”

“Oh, I do,” Alastor said brightly. “And I wouldn’t recommend initiating anything like this yourself. I’ve been told I’m a little volatile!” The sheer, absurd cheer in his voice made Angel laugh again. Alastor’s expression grew a little more subdued, but his smile was no less genuine. “…there is something… different about you, Angel. I don’t mean to be trite, but your touch… The touch of others can feel like shards of glass even through my coat, but you are… soft,” he said finally, like the word wasn’t adequate but he couldn’t come up with another one.

Angel tilted back against the wall. “This part of what you want to figure out?”

“If you’ll permit it.”

“And then what?”

Alastor tilted his head, a brief buzz of confused static filling the alcove.

Angel grinned. “I mean… what happens when you figure it out?”

“No idea!” Alastor said. “That’s the fun of it, my dear, don’t you think? I never know how I might respond from one moment to the next!”

“Hoo boy,” Angel said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Okay, fine. But I got a couplea conditions here.”

Alastor’s eyebrow went up. “I’m listening.”

“First, you gotta tell me how you’re doin’. And I mean, whenever you think it’s important, no matter how much it changes up.”

“Fair enough. And?”

“And, if your mood changes while we’re doin’ somethin’ like this, you ain’t allowed to freak out on me. I ain’t losin’ a hand or worse just cause you suddenly decided you don’t wanna be touched anymore. Just… tell me, and I’ll back off, I promise. Kay?”

“Communication. Lovely!” Alastor chirped. “This must be that elusive consent that’s so difficult to come by down here.”

“Exactly. Easy, and then I don’t lose an arm. Or a kidney.”

“Unless you consent to that.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me with a good time.”

Alastor smiled at that, hesitated, and then kissed Angel again.

It was very much the same as the night before, though more confident and certain. Afterwards, he released the spider and headed off through his shadows to do his work, and Angel was left to hum to himself as he practically danced down the hallway and the stairs to the kitchen.

That was all Angel needed to make up his mind about whether or not he was spending the day in the hotel. He suddenly became the most suspiciously helpful being in the hotel, giving Charlie a hand with her filing and aiding Niffty in some cleaning and organizing. He caught up on some of his knitting and a bit of reading, he did some prep work in the kitchen, and he took Nuggets out for a walk in the hotel’s small garden. All throughout the day, to the bewilderment of everyone else, he would randomly disappear as a hand snatched him into a shadowy corner to whisper to him, to kiss him, to make him laugh into his own hands to stay quiet. Then, Angel would emerge, and no one would see him reappear, just as they hadn’t seen him vanish… but they all knew he was gone.

It was exhilarating, in a way; thrilling, even though it seemed so low-stakes in the safety of the hotel, to be sneaking around under everyone else’s noses. Alastor seemed to be enjoying it, too, his smile brighter than usual as he tended to hotel business with Charlie or harassed Husk (though Angel thought he seemed more good-natured than usual even in that).

The next day was much the same, until two o’clock rolled around. Angel was curled up in a chair, counting in his head as he worked on his knitting, when Alastor’s voice just behind him made him jump.

“Hello, Angel.”

“Oh my fuck hi Alastor,” Angel said, frowning almost immediately. “Aww, you made me drop a stitch.”

“Terribly sorry, my dear,” Alastor said with a smile that didn’t look sorry at all. “I was heading out on an errand and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been shut away for nearly two days now. I thought you might like to come with me.”

“Really?” Angel asked, perking up slightly and setting his knitting down. He could fix it later. “Sure, Al, sounds good.”

Unlike the last time they left the hotel together, nobody stopped them, but Angel could feel eyes following them as they headed out again. Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, going so far as to comment as soon as they were out of earshot, “Don’t worry about them, my dear. If they have concerns, I have little doubt that they will be addressing them to me before you, and I will do my level best to redirect their attention before you fall victim to yet another interrogation.”

“I appreciate that, Smiles,” Angel said as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw Cherri had texted him, opening it up. “Where we goin’?”

< “hey bitch do u no y husk called me” >

Angel raised an eyebrow at his phone as Alastor said, “Simply dropping off Charlie’s restocking order for her, nothing taxing. I thought we might take a walk after, if you were interested.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Angel said, firing off a text response.

< “Sorry, bb, aint got no idea, did he leave a message?” >

“Everything alright?” Alastor asked. He actually sounded interested.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think so,” Angel said. “Cherri said Husk called her.”

“Really…” Alastor sounded keenly interested now. “Old Husker, calling Miss Cherri Bomb. Oh, that is a very interesting tidbit of information.”

Angel looked at him. “You’d better not harass him over this—!” He jumped a little when his phone vibrated again.

< “lol fuck no he didnt, called yesterday n today, thot u mite no if smth was wrong” >

“Are those words?” Alastor asked, the sneer audible in his voice.

Angel jumped and pressed his phone into his chest fluff. “Don’t read my phone!”

“I didn’t,” Alastor said with an airy shrug and an unconvincingly innocent smile. “There was nothing to read, simply gibberish.”

Angel laughed quietly, texting back. “We come from the same era, old man, get with the times.”

“I refuse.”

< “Sorry hon, guess you gotta call him back” >

Angel pocketed his phone again and didn’t bother looking when it vibrated again, since it was probably just Cherri cursing at him. “Whaddya got against technology, anyway?”

“I find it an unnecessary distraction.”

Angel snorted. “You wouldn’t be able to figure out a smart phone to save your life.”

Alastor glanced at him, his eyes narrowed and his smile sharp. “Of course I could. Trivial. I simply feel no need to.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I know when I am being baited, Angel Dust. I will not permit you to do it.”

“Okay, sure, be that way, big bad Radio Demon.”

Alastor made a noise that sounded like an annoyed radio, and Angel couldn’t help laughing… but that was mostly because Alastor’s smile was still one of the most genuine Angel had ever seen.

•••

If th’ boys don’t get here soon, I ain’t gonna be responsible for them missin’ shit.

Just Millie’s luck, she supposed, that she would be the one on truck duty when the alarm went off and the surveillance camera informed her, mostly because of its scrambled image, that the Radio Demon had just left the hotel. She immediately fired off messages to Moxxie, Blitzø, and Loona (if Blitzø wanted her out then he would have to nut up and talk to her himself, she wasn’t gonna exclude the girl to make his job easier) before grabbing the equipment VoxTek had provided and hurrying out of the van.

The Radio Demon was very easy to spot, as was his companion, Angel Dust. As she followed them, Millie found herself either thinking about how cool this job was or how much better Angel Dust’s legs looked in person, both of which were not the mission. But it was the Radio Demon!

Just her luck that the one time she got an opportunity to meet him, it was through stalking him and she wasn’t actually allowed to talk to him. What a load of horseshit.

Millie kept an eye on her coworkers’ locations, but she knew she would be doing most of this herself, so she just stuck to the program as she followed the two to some kind of emporium where Alastor talked to someone behind a counter for a brief moment, and then the two left again and just started… walking around.

It wasn’t long before Millie figured out what they were doing. Casually strolling, chatting, occasionally pausing to point at something in a store… they were window shopping and going for a walk. Millie frowned to herself, wondering just what the hell made the Vees so interested in this; it looked very casual, nothing secretive or threatening, no plots being made… Why did they care so much?

From across the street and positioned behind a dumpster, Millie raised the camera that would automatically take a long series of rapid-fire pictures (necessary for Alastor, according to Vox), and she watched the two of them through the lens. They were both looking at something through a window, Angel Dust pointing, before they turned at the same time to look at each other. Millie pressed the button, and the camera began taking its pictures, just as Alastor raised his hand and brushed a stray shred of burned fabric from the pyre on the next street from Angel Dust’s hair.

Millie’s eyes widened a little and she lowered the camera, then she crouched fully behind the dumpster and looked at the screen on the back. She pulled up the previews of the images she had just took, then flipped through them to roughly the middle of the set.

They were both smiling, which seemed normal for the Radio Demon, but Millie was pretty sure this was different. Angel Dust was giggling, his cheeks pink, and Alastor’s expression… she had seen a look like that before.

She had seen it on Moxxie, the evening of their first real date, when he came to pick her up and saw her in the dress she had bought special, just for the occasion.

“You look… beautiful, Millie.”

Millie lowered the camera and stared at the ground. Suddenly, she had a very, very sick feeling about this job.

•••

Val: Makes you wonder what they’re doing RIGHT NOW

Well going by the timing they were probably making out in Alastor’s radio tower, Val

[musings-of-a-rose]

I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 16

Pairing: Frankie Morales OR Santiago Garcia???x f!reader

Word Count: 5900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I’m sorry this took so long to get to. In my defense, I birthed a human and then had to care for it so Frankie kindly waited for me to be at a point where I could really focus on him and his story. Plus, y’all made me rethink a lot of things so it took some time!

A huge thank you to @vanemando15 for reading and listening and bouncing ideas off of. @astoryisaloveaffair and @mermaidxatxheart, ya'll really helped me too!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<<Chapter 15

—----

"Frankie.. ::sigh::  if you're looking for me, you can stop. I can't be around you right now. I need time away to think clearly. You've put me through so much shit these last months and I just..can't. I can't keep wondering what you're not telling me. I can't keep being 2nd place. 

::whimper and a sob::

Do you want the drugs or me? Do you want to be with…Elizabeth.. or me? I can't keep listening to you defend her or hide your addiction. Not anymore. I can't so please… ::sob:: think about it."

Frankie played the voicemail from you over and over, tears silently flowing down his face every time he hears your words and how you break down crying. 

I did this. I fucked this up. And for what?

Nothing was going on between him and Elizabeth, not since they were married. She divorced him while he was in a coma and just made his life a living hell. Why would he want that back?

Events of that night flashed before his eyes and he runs his hands across his face. Elizabeth had nearly given him a hand job and he didn't even notice. He was too involved in his conversation to notice. And honestly, probably too high and drunk to notice. Or care.

But he did care. Frankie didn't want it. Any of it. Once you took off, he'd come back yelling at Elizabeth and telling her off. 

He went back inside Flyboyz, commanding Rick to give him the keys to his SUV. He just had to find Hermosa and everything would be ok. He’d explain what happened and she’d understand. It would all work out, right?

He takes off, driving first to his house. Seeing no one there and no evidence someone had been, he heads to Hermosa’s place in the next town over. It makes sense she wouldn’t have been at his house - he wouldn’t have gone there either. She’s most likely at home.

When knocking on her door brings no answer, Frankie finds the hide-a-key and shoves it in the lock, all but flinging open the door and yelling her name. No answer. He walks the apartment and finds no one here. It’s when he sits on the couch to think about where she might have gone that he notices it - the blanket she always kept on the back of the couch is missing. The only time it’s not there is when she travels because she takes it with her. Jumping up, he runs to her closet and notices a few things astray. When he can’t find her suitcase, he mumbles to himself “No no no no!”, rushing to the bathroom and yanking open the cabinets to see bare shelves, a few nearly empty containers left behind. The final clue that she had packed a bag and left were her missing plants, which Frankie would later find on her neighbor’s doormat. 

Where the fuck is she?

—----

Santi couldn’t believe it. She came with him. To Colombia. He’d always dreamed she would be with him, but he never thought she would actually do it.

In the beginning, he gave her space, wanted her to process what happened and know that he was there for her. She did just that, coming to him a few weeks later, softly kissing his lips while he stood in the kitchen, an empty coffee mug in his hand ready for his morning cup. 

Santi went to work with a pep in his step and a smile on his face, his men teasing him at first about him getting laid. One day, Hermosa came into work and brought him lunch, and his men’s teasing turned into praises and asking for advice on how to land someone like that. 

“It takes time. I’ve waited for her for years.”

When Santi comes home from work, she is there waiting for him, usually with some sort of meal. He tells her he doesn’t need it, that she doesn’t have to put herself out, but she just smiles and kisses him, telling him she wants to take care of him, especially since he’s taken care of her all these years. 

Santi wakes one morning, the sun streaming in through the crack in the curtains and splaying across Hermosa’s bare back in front of him. He reaches out, gently running his hand across her skin, smiling at the goosebumps that raise in his wake. She doesn’t stir until he presses his lips to her shoulder, sliding his hand around her front and pulling her close to him.

“Mmmm…” she groans, turning her head and reaching back to pull his face to hers, gently kissing him. 

Santi gently rolls her onto her back, slotting his body between her legs, neither of them having bothered to put clothes on after last night’s escapades. She wraps her legs around him, her hands cupping his face as he starts to slide himself through her. She breaks the kiss with a whine, Santi lifting his head high enough to stare into her eyes as he pushes in, loving the way she slams her eyes shut, mouth hanging open as he bottoms out. 

“You feel fucking amazing, Hermosa. So wet.”

“Just for you, Santi.” She whines out his name as he pulls out, gently pushing back in with an added roll of his hips, angling himself to rub against that spot inide of her that curls her toes.

His hands ghost across her skin as she grips his arms, feeling him sliding in and out as they make love. When she comes she calls his name, a steady chant of “oh God oh God!” behind it. He smiles, pushing into her a few more times before it’s his turn, filling her up with every sporadic thrust of his hips. He looks down at her fucked out expression and smiles, his finger tips brushing at her face.

“I love you, Hermosa.”

“I love yo-”

BANG BANG BANG!

Loud knocking interrupts the moment and Santi jolts awake, sitting bolt upright, covered in sweat and, he looks down, other stuff as the person knocking continues to demand he open the door. Santi swears, pulling on his robe as he crosses his apartment, grabbing his gun on the way over. When he looks through the peephole, he sighs, taking a breath before opening the door.

“Where is she?”

Santi raises his eyebrows. “Nice to see you too, Frankie.”

Frankie rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Santi. Where the fuck is she? Is she here?”

Santi yawns. “Who?”

Frankie pushes past him into the apartment, eyes scanning the room for any sign of a second occupant. 

“She’s not here, Fish.”

Frankie turns to him, eyes wide and wild. “She has to be here. You guys are best friends.”

Santi gestures around. “Well, as you can see, she isn’t here.”

Frankie grunts and turns back, stomping off down the hallway. He pulls open one door to find an empty bathroom and the next one the bedroom, which is also empty. No signs of anyone else living here, aside from Santi. Frankie walks back into the living room and sits on the couch, putting his head in his hands.

“I fucked up, Santi.”

Santi chuckles. “Yeah, man. You did.”

Frankie’s eyes meet Santi’s. “I love her, Pope. I love her more than I love myself. I would never… I just need to see her. To explain…do you know where she is?”

Santi shakes his head. “She never came with me, Fish. I did ask her to but she said no. Needed time by herself.”

Frankie swallows hard, choking back tears. “H-how long ago was that?”

“Couple days.”

Frankie nods. “And you promise she’s not here?”

“Have you seen anything to suggest she has?”

Frankie glances around again as if he’d find something of hers laying around. “No.”

“Sorry you wasted a trip. You could’ve just called.”

“I had to see for myself.”

“Fair enough.”

A few moments pass before Frankie speaks. “Can I crash on your couch tonight? I can book a flight but the next one out isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Sure, man.”

“Thanks. And Santi?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

—----

2 days after Frankie get’s back from Colombia, he figures it out. A conversation he’d had with you years ago, about where you’d live if money wasn’t an issue. That has to be where she went!

The next day, Frankie steps off the ferry after it docks in Friday Harbor, Washington, a small island in the San Juan Islands. This is where you wanted to live, at least for a long while, loving the scenery, the people, and the whales. You had to be here. 

Frankie had had no luck calling around to hotels. Either you used a different name or they were reluctant to give out guest information. He can’t blame them, but it still pissed him off. Frankie walks past the community center and sees a flyer in the window for a farmer’s market that day. He figured he would start there, maybe ask some of the vendors if they’d seen you.

He walks the first isle, pausing to take a look around. It’s fairly large for a small island, a few rows of vendors selling wares and produce, even fresh flowers. As he scans the area, he notices a woman in a sundress with a wide brimmed hat, standing at the opposite end of the isle from him. He knew it was Hermosa before she turns slightly, smiling at the vendor while nodding, picking up more produce. 

It was the sad look on her face that made Frankie pause mid step. He knows he’s the reason it’s there. He watches her for another minute before turning, heading back to the ferry. 

I have to get my shit together, get clean, before I talk to her. She deserves that. Aurelia deserves that. I’m such a fucking idiot. I just hope she’ll talk to me when I’m clean.

What Frankie doesn’t see is you, glancing up at the place where Frankie had been standing, telling yourself that you had imagined seeing a man in a dark blue hat with curls poking out from under it.

—----

8 months later…

You hadn’t meant to stay this long, but when you stepped off the ferry and felt the cool, misty air on your face, saw the jagged cliffs leading down into the cold waters that you loved, you just couldn’t tear yourself away. 

It was really hard at first, being here alone. Without Frankie. You cried. A lot. It felt like you’d lost him all over again. You knew you’d have to face him eventually and have a hard conversation, but for now, you would focus on you. 

You’d only meant to stay a few weeks. But then you met an older couple that ran a little b&b who needed help with their social media and you stayed, offering to do it for free in exchange for a room. They happened to have a second property, a small studio above a coffee shop just a couple blocks from the harbor where the ferry docked. It was the perfect size for you, even had a full kitchen and bathroom. You adjusted to the ferry horns and bustling people quickly, just happy to be here. 

Until you remembered why you were here. 

Even all these months later, it would catch you off guard, creep up on you whenever you weren’t thinking about it. About him. You knew you’d have to talk to him soon. But what would you say? What would he say? Did he even try to find you? Did you want him to?

You continue to stare out of the coffee shop window at the harbor, eyes glazed over in thought as you absent mindedly sip from your cup. Weather seems nice. I think I’ll go for a hike toda-

“Hey.”

Goosebumps erupt across your skin, your stomach immediately starts churning, and your heart starts to race. You’d know that voice anywhere. You blink a few times, slowly turning your head to look up into the eyes of the man who broke your heart and somehow still held it. You stare up at him, saying nothing but taking in his appearance.

Frankie shifts nervously under your gaze. “It’s uh…it’s been a while.”

He looks…good. Like he actually got sleep. He’s not rubbing at his nose, not even a sniffle. His cheeks have filled in a bit and his eyes don’t have that look to them anymore. You scan down his body and it’s then you notice he doesn’t have his cane. 

“You don’t have your cane.” All these months, so much to talk about and you settle on this? UGH.

Frankie smiles, shaking his leg. “Nope. Just got rid of it a couple of weeks ago. Doctor said I still need to take it easy and to take breaks if I need it. But I’m healed enough to not need the cane. I mean, I won’t be walking Disney World anytime soon without it but…”

“That’s…good, Frankie. Really.”

“It is.”

An awkward silence passes between you. When did it get this hard to talk to him? 

You knew when. 

“How did you find-”

“Can we talk-”

You’d both spoken at the same time. Chuckling, the first layer of tension pops and you gesture to Frankie to go first. 

“Can we go somewhere to…to talk?”

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes and see hope there and it breaks you.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

Frankie smiles wide, trying to hide his excitement at your positive response. “Great! Do you uh..do you have a place in mind or?”

Standing, you grab your cup and toss it in the trash bin. “Yeah. I live just upstairs.”

“Oh.”

You turn to look at him. “Is that a problem?”

“Not..not for me but…is that ok? With you?”

“I suggested it, Frankie.”

You notice some tears welling in his eyes when you say his name, but he quickly coughs, rubbing at his face to clear them. 

“Then uh, lead the way.”

Frankie follows you upstairs and into your apartment, looking around as he kicks off his boots at the door. Walking into your kitchen area, you pour both of you a glass of lemonade, walking back to hand him his. He takes a sip, smacking his lips as he does and you hide your smile behind your glass at this gesture, memories of all the times he’d done it before flooding your brain. He looks around the room and spots the loveseat under the window, sitting when you gesture to it. It dawns on you now that you have no idea how to navigate this. Were you still together? Had he found someone else? You hadn’t, but it had been 7 months. 

You sit on the couch next to him, leaving as much space as you could between you both. Setting your glass down on the side table, you shift your body towards him and wait.

Frankie clears his throat, fishing something from his pocket. “I’m 7 months clean.” He reaches out, turning his palm up, showing off his 7 months sober coin from Narcotics Anonymous. 

“Oh, Frankie! That’s amazing! I’m so pr-”

Frankie holds up a hand. “Please. Let me finish. Or I’m afraid I’ll chicken out.” He chuckles nervously and you pretend to lock your lips and stick the pretend key in your pocket.

“That night was…was rock bottom for me. I have no excuses for any of it. I fell back into old habits with the…with the coke and I knew exactly what I was doing. I guess my body did a detox when I was in the coma but my brain didn’t get the memo.”

He pauses to take a sip of lemonade, clearing his throat as he sets the glass back on the table, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Going back to Flyboyz…I knew where it might end up. Rick was my dealer. I told him I was over that part of my life but..one day he offered it to me and I-I caved. I became worried that you would find out, that anyone would find out that I was back on the drug that caused the crash that nearly killed me, and so..I would lash out. I am so sorry for yelling at you or accusing you of things I know you weren’t doing. You didn’t deserve that.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming his nerves to continue. 

“I knew I was in too deep but I just couldn’t bring myself out of it. I told myself in the beginning it would just be to celebrate big occasions, then it was just when I had a hard week, then a rough day, then every day. I would even get high just before coming home to you-”

“Oh that’s why you seemed extra…enthusiastic some days?”

Frankie nods, still not quite meeting your eyes. “Yes. And I’m so sorry. I had told myself I wouldn’t bring it home, but then there I was, high as shit and fucking you and I hated myself. But then I’d do it all over again. I guess maybe I thought I couldn’t get caught? Or maybe I hoped I would get caught? I’m not sure that makes sense.”

He pauses again to take another drink, his hands shaking slightly as he picks up the glass and sets it back down. 

“And then Elizabeth. I heard your concerns but I thought you were the one being worried for nothing. I feel nothing for her and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t see that. Why you couldn’t see that I love you with all that I am. I ignored the fact that Elizabeth had been the one to encourage the drugs when we were married and she definitely didn’t stop them now. Her and Rick are friends,” Frankie answers your questioning look. “Yeah, I know. So many red fucking flags, right?”

He sighs, rubbing his large hand across his face. “But that night, at Flyboyz? When I told you that Rick and I were celebrating my license being reinstated? I knew there would be drugs and drinking. I didn’t expect Elizabeth to be there but Rick had invited her. When I asked her why she’d even want to be there, she said something about supporting the father of her child or some shit. I was so focused on my next high, I didn’t even question it. And then I got out my kit and Rick started talking about some new repair method for the helios and I was so involved, I just tossed my kit on the table. I had no clue what was happening. I didn’t even realize Elizabeth was sitting next to me until…”

Silence passes between you for a few moments. 

“...until you said my name. I-I really thought you had caught me getting high, that I was finally outed, but then I saw your eyes not on the table but next to me and that’s…that’s when I felt…and then you were running away, and I was shoving Elizabeth away and trying to catch up to you. Cutting my new tires was definitely a move I didn’t expect from you.”

“I didn’t want you catching up to me.” You say it so quiet but to Frankie, it’s like you yelled it.

“I-I wouldn’t have wanted me either. I went back inside and got into it with Elizabeth. Rick eventually let me borrow his keys and I went all over town looking for you. When I saw your things gone, I figured you had gone with Santi so I flew to Colombia-”

“You flew to Colombia??”

Frankie nods. “I thought, for a moment, that you had gone with Santi. Actually with Santi.”

When you say nothing, Frankie looks up at you. “It…was offered. And to be honest Frankie, I thought about it. But then I realized I was just hurt and I would be acting out of anger and hurt and that wasn’t fair to Santi or myself.”

“That’s basically what he told me. I…I wouldn’t have blamed you had you gone with him.” the last part he speaks quietly, nearing whispering it into his glass he picked up before taking another sip. You say nothing. 

“But…when I got back, I remembered a conversation we’d had about places we’d like to live and I remembered you’d said Friday Harbor.. So I hopped on a plane. I had no clue where to look outside of the island, and no hotel is going to give me guest information. So I was walking around and I saw a flyer for a farmer’s market. Figured I’d try there.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. You were at that farmer’s market and you had sworn you’d seen him that day, but in the end thought it was just your emotions making you see things.

“I turned a corner and there you were, in that sundress I love? With a big hat? You had some carrots in your hand.”

Tears start falling from your eyes as you realize Frankie had remembered all of these small details about you, flew not just to Colombia but also here just to talk to you. But then he didn’t.

“Why..why didn’t you talk to me?”

Frankie smiles sadly. “Would you have wanted to talk to me?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“I-I also realized then that you deserved so much more. And Aurelia too. So I vowed to get my shit together. When I got home, I lined everything up for me being gone a bit and checked myself into rehab. I got out after a few months but I needed to stand on my own 2 feet before I even tried to talk to you. Fuck, I’d hurt you so bad and I just…” He sighs. “I don’t expect you to believe me about Elizabeth, so here.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a flashdrive, handing it to you. Hesitating for a moment, you take it, your fingers brushing against his warm hand for a brief moment, making your stomach flutter. 

“What is this?”

“Security camera footage. The main camera was disabled by Rick but he didn’t know the owners had put in new cameras because some animal had kept breaking in and making nests. I was too wrapped up in getting high to remember to turn it off too, but that worked out in my favor I guess.”

You look down at the flash drive and turn it in your hand. “What animal was it?”

Frankie smiles softly. “Racoons.”

He reaches for you but then stops, unsure if he has a right to touch you anymore. “Anyway, just watch, Hermosa. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even want to talk to me beyond this. But you deserve an explanation, no matter how bad it makes me look. I’ll…I’ll leave you be.”

He stands, stretching a little before giving you a small smile. “I really am sorry, Hermosa. I am…I’m sorry.” He walks to the front door, closing it quietly behind him.

The room is filled with the sounds from the harbor a couple blocks away, the smell of coffee wafting up as it does every once in a while from the shop below. Taking a deep breath, you sit at the little kitchen island you’d made a small desk and pop the flash drive into your laptop. There’s only one file on it so you hover over it, hesitating before you double click to open it. 

It’s definitely camera footage. You can see the days work, Frankie helping out customers and then leaving to come back in. The setup of the party and Rick setting out the drinks and drugs, some other people coming in along with Elizabeth. Your blood boils seeing her but already you can see Frankie annoyed with her, his body language showing that he didn’t want her there or around him. The evening progresses and you swallow hard, seeing Frankie take lines off the table, sitting back and rubbing his finger along his gums. That’s why his mouth tasted weird. 

Frankie turns slightly, talking to Rick. That’s when you notice Elizabeth come and sit next to Frankie, slowly scooting closer and closer to him. Her hand starts to twirl the hair sticking out from under his cap and Frankie sort of shrugs, but doesn’t really make a move, too involved in the conversation he’s having. You watch, bile rising in your stomach as Elizabeth’s other hand starts to move up his thigh and slowly over to palm him, Frankie shifting only slightly, the only indication that he noticed anything was happening, but that was just an automatic reflex.

“Frankie?” 

You hear your own voice on the camera, Frankie’s head snapping in your direction and looking down at the table with fear in his eyes. A second later and he turns his head to the side, a look of sheer surprise and outrage on his face as he sees Elizabeth, shoving her hand away. He yells at her and jumps up, presumably following you out of the door. He comes back in a minute later, body language showing his anger, yelling at Elizabeth, telling her she had no right to touch him, to even be there, that he wanted to never see her outside of dropping Aurelia off and picking her up. That he would ask for supervised drop offs. That she’s only to contact him via a special co-parenting app unless it’s an emergency. That she ruined their relationship and then divorced him while in a coma, pawning his daughter off on his best friend. That she can fuck right off. Rick hands him his keys a short bit later and he’s gone, Elizabeth finally looking defeated.

He was right. He had been telling the truth when he said he didn’t know what Elizabeth was doing. You had thought he was telling the truth but couldn’t be sure, that seed of doubt having been planted there by Elizabeth herself, showing up to the house and staying with them, falling asleep on his couch, all of it. She was still trying to drive a wedge between you but this time it seemed because she finally realized what she had lost.

And then he flew to an entirely different country only to find out you weren’t there. He remembered a conversation you must have had when you were what, 23? About how much you’d love to live in Friday Harbor? And then he shows up, finds you, but then realizes he needs to get his shit together before he can ever hope to talk to you? And he does. He’s clean, his appearance verifies that. And then he gives you proof that he had not been doing anything with Elizabeth, that she was the bitch you always knew she was. 

You’re not sure what to do with all of this information, but you don’t want Frankie to leave. Something has to be said. You throw on your boots, grabbing your keys and throwing open the door, not entirely sure where to go. He’d mentioned just coming in off the ferry, so it’s possible he doesn’t have a car. 

Heading into all the shops in the vicinity, you still haven’t found Frankie. None of the closest hotels have seen a man fitting the description of Frankie, so you head towards the closest cafe, thinking he maybe stopped in for an early dinner. Glancing towards the docks, you see the little covered ticket office for the ferry and something tells you to check there. Crossing the street, you walk up to the office and peek inside, seeing no one. Remembering there was open seating around the back, you walk that direction and turn the corner, a pair of brown eyes snapping up to meet yours. 

“Hermosa?”

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

He raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide. “You have?”

“Yeah- wait. Why are you waiting here? You know the last ferry left like an hour ago, right?”

Frankie shrugs, glancing down before looking back up at you. “I meant to be on it.”

“You were going to just drop all that on me and leave?”

“No no not like that! I just…I didn’t want to invade your space any longer than I needed to.”

You nod, looking at him and realizing that he only had a small backpack with him. You’d assumed he had a suitcase somewhere but he meant it when he said he didn’t intend to stay. 

“Are you seeing someone else?” You blurted out, unable to hold back that question any longer.

“I- what? No. No, I’m…I’m not. Are…are you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Ok. G-good.”

You take another few seconds to think about what you wanted to do next. 

“Come on.” You jerk your head back towards the town. “Let’s go.”

Frankie’s eyes are wide like a puppy. “Wh-what?”

“Frankie, I’m not going to let you sit in the ferry station all night.”

“Oh. No, I mean, I can go get a room-”

“This is a small town, Frankie. Most of the front desks are closed by now. Especially since it’s off season.”

“Oh. I-I can stay here. It’s ok-”

“Come on, Frankie. It gets cold at night. I’m not letting you freeze out here.”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

Sighing, you walk over to him, slowly extending your hand towards him. He looks up at you, eyes wide and round, and he slowly puts his hand in yours. The moment he touches you, your body relaxes, like the tension that had been there for the last several months just left your body. If Frankie feels it too he doesn’t let on, and you think maybe you’ve overstepped. So you drop his hand and gesture towards the direction of your place. A look passes over Frankie’s face but then it’s gone and he’s following you. Once you get inside, Frankie kicks off his boots and hangs his jacket on a hook on the wall, setting his backpack down on the floor. 

“Hungry?” You ask. 

“Yeah, actually. I meant to get something to eat but I was trying to make the ferry.”

“I’ll make us something. And don’t say you don’t want to put me out, I’m hungry too.”

Tossing together a quick charcuterie board, you hand him a glass of sweet tea, sliding the board across the breakfast bar. Frankie and you settle into polite conversation, each trying not to overstep the other. 

Why is this so hard?

After dinner, you disappear into the bathroom, putting on your pajamas and getting ready for bed. When you come out, Frankie is sitting on the loveseat, nervously tapping his foot on the ground. Crossing the room, you sit on the bed, swinging your legs over to lay on top of the sheets, your upper half leaning against the headboard. 

“Why are you way over there?” You ask.

“I uh…I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

You roll your eyes. “Frankie, I can’t even lay on that couch and I’m shorter than you. Come on, you can have this side.” You pat the bed next to you and watch as his eyes widen.

“I-no. Are…are you sure?”

“Of course. I don’t want you to hurt your hip. And plus, you can see the tv better.”

“Oh well, in that case.” Frankie chuckles, a nervous tone to it as he gets up, crossing the room to sit on the bed, pausing to start fiddling with his belt. He slides his jeans off, standing there in his boxers as he pulls off his outer flannel, revealing an undershirt. He notices you watching and asks:

“Is this ok?”

“I-y-yeah. It’s fine.”

Frankie sets his clothes down and sits on the bed, sliding his legs down and stretching out. 

“This bed is pretty comfy.”

“Yeah. I bought it. The mattress they had sucked.”

You turn on the TV, flipping through the channels and putting on some reality show that Frankie was secretly obsessed with. His arm lay next to him on the bed and you glance down at it, almost unconsciously moving your arm towards him. Your fingers are right next to his, your heart is beating through your chest and you swear he can hear it. Reaching your pinkie finger out, you gently touch it to his own, not daring to look at him, fully giving him time to move and pull away. But he doesn’t. Frankie’s pinkie finger slowly moves over yours and links with it, like you were making a silent pinkie promise. You stay like that for several minutes, your mind racing, not taking in a word of the show. 

After a few minutes, you feel Frankie start to unlink his finger from yours and your heart sinks a little, until you feel his fingers creeping across the top of your hand, lacing them with yours and squeezing your hand. His skin is warm, soft, despite the callouses he has from piloting the helicopters, but it’s familiar. It’s Frankie. 

Another several minutes passes and Frankie slowly picks up your hand, shifting his hand under yours, lacing your fingers together as he brings the back of your hand up to his lips, placing a very gentle kiss there. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, your chest heaving from holding back, when he speaks, soft and low. 

“There was never anyone else.”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, eyes heavy with love and admiration, but also hesitation and worry, like he’s afraid he’s overstepping. 

“It’s always been you Frankie.”

He gently pulls you to him, holding your face close to his but pausing to take a look at you. His eyes roam over your face, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gently brushes some hair from your face.

“I am so sorry, Hermosa. We’ve missed out on so much time because of me-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, feeling a few tears fall down your face at finally kissing the man you’ve been in love with since you were 19. He kisses you back, softly parting your lips with his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. He cradles the back of your head in one large hand, holding you to him as you gently make out. Soft moans and a whimper escapes Frankie and he breaks the kiss, pressing your forehead to his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“For a moment, I thought I’d lost you too.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you continue to make out for several minutes before you pull back, kissing the top of his nose as you lay down, cuddling into him, Frankie wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close to him. You fall asleep like that and wake up the next day still entangled in each others arms. Frankie is already awake when you stir, tracing little circles on your skin. 

“Hey Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“Let’s go home.”

—----

 @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional  @marvelousmermaid  @hauntedmama  @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi  @wretchedmo  @sunnshineeexoxo  @livingmydreams13  @adventures-of-a-noodle  @sara-alonso  @theewokingdead  @punkerthanpascal  @giggly-otter  @f0rever15elf  @phandoz  @dirtytissuebox  @gallowsjoker  @lovesbiggerthanpride  @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat  @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear  @charlispersonallyhell  @xoxabs88xox  @amneris21  @gooddaykate  @alindeluce @avengers-fixation  @paintballkid711  @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri  @marrianena  @practicalghost  @withakindheartx  @batdarkladyvampir  @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart  @alexxavicry  @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics  @frankie-catfish-morales

Chapter 17>>

[shitouttabuck]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 thank u bud i’m procrastinating packing and this was fun

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

seven!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

129,484 which is a fake number to me

3. what fandoms do you write for?

nothing has made me as insane in my life as network television procedural drama 911 on abc, so

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you can start a family who will always show you love

let the world have its way with you

my hearts over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance

like a dog with a bird at your door

i like the summer rain (i like the sounds you make)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i try very hard to because they make me so happy and it’s unbelievably kind of people to take the time to leave them!!! However i sometimes leave it too long and then worry it’s weird to reply after like. a month. which as a fic reader i wouldn’t give a shit about so idk what my problem is!!!! i will reply i will just maybe take a hot sec to do it

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don’t have any i’m a happily ever after or bust kinda guy in my own head if nowhere else…… angstiest is probably the sound of love astounds me if only because it ends post-feelings realisation but still pre-relationship

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

they’re all so happy omg. i will say with great personal bias it’s my heart’s over-pumping but also i have. a sequel in the works….

8. do you get hate on fics?

no people have been very very very lovely but also sjjsjsjs i’ve not been here super long. the funniest comment i’ve gotten was on my first fic where someone was like i liked this but it is jarringly inaccurate as mcdonald’s in california doesn’t have a veggie burger option 😭 i cried laughing im so sorry to u americans. pls petition your local mcdonald’s to stock the mcplant it slaps

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

have written two e-rated fics….. it’s very fun but i don’t think i’m very good so i’d like to practice actually (maybe some sexy prompts after i finish the bed-sharing ones?) just the regular kind for now like i love buck and eddie desperately and am myself into a million things but i don’t know how kinky they would actually get in my own head. so just a little gross with it for now i guess

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no that would be SICK. @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove is podficcing bucket list fic which is so very cool of her!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no omg i don’t know how y’all do it i’m bad at group projects but also this sounds soooooo fun. if also deeply stressful

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

if that’s synonymous with most likely to get you institutionalised, uh. gestures around us. otherwise mulder/scully and i am just now right as i’m typing this realising i’ve never ever in my life actually read x files fic what the fuck. also steve/bucky but i haven’t read fic since 2017 probably

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

listen i have not written a word for x files au past that one snip i shared forever ago. i want to soooo bad i’ve talked about it to some of you very rabidly but. it does not want to be written and if it did it would have to be so fucking long which is very daunting to me. not saying i’ve put her in the ground yet but. we might need some necromancing

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i’m pretty good at writing in character? mostly? sometimes i struggle with buck just because i think we’re very similar and i project a little and then have to go back and fix it lmao but for the most part i think i’m good at that! and i have a lot of fun writing dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot!!!!!! and pacing!!!!!!!!!!! also my inability to write non-linearly omg if i get stuck i just get Stuck i can’t jump ahead

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

oooh i love it and would love to include more than the teeniest bits i have but i’m so conscious about it sounding natural and not stiff to people whose language it actually is (shout out and a million kisses to @eddiebabygirldiaz for fixing the spanish in i love you like a dog!!!!!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

911 babey!

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance !!! not just because it was the first fic i posted after joining tumblr fandom but. idk it is so so so special to me like it makes me so happy and when i think about it i’m like. hey u wrote that. good for u my dude. and also maybe i just associate it with meeting a bunch of you whjsjssjsj

tagging @callaplums @eddiebabygirldiaz @housewifebuck @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @onward--upward @anxieteandbiscuits @devirnis @athenagranted if anyone wants to do this i’m nosy soz if you already have !!!!

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 19: Breaking Down

“What’s with you?” Fresh Cut Grass has seemed a bit more on edge than usual since Bells Hells reunited. It wasn’t too surprising at first; the whole moon situation had upped stress levels for all of them. But after, when they should all be enjoying a well-deserved reprieve from existential concerns, at the very least, the automaton seems about ready to snap. Ashton doesn’t want to let it become a problem.

F.C.G. lets out a pretty good approximation of a sigh, for someone who doesn’t breathe, but doesn’t answer.

“Hey, I mean it.” Ashton sits down to face them. “You sound like you’ve been taking a beating, and I know you haven’t. Do we need to get you checked out? Tighten up the chassis or whatever? Or just something on your mind?” F.C.G. doesn’t tend to talk much about their own issues, but there were times, like the encounter with Dancer a while back, where it was clear their emotions were starting to get the better of them.

F.C.G. pulls the little wheel free from his pack, and spins the dial to point to a face with a flat, expressionless mouth.

“Meh?” F.C.G. nods. “How come?”

They shake their head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s stupid.”

“So? I talk to you about stupid shit all the time.”

Letters looks at the ground. “I miss FRIDA.”

“Oh.”

“See, I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not.” Honestly, Ashton has been struggling to make sense of F.C.G.’s new relationship. They’re sure how something like that would work between two machines, even as person-like as they knew one of them to be. Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure how it worked between people, either. What was clear, though, was that F.C.G. was clearly distressed by FRIDA’s absence.

“And it’s like, I missed Dancer when I thought she died, and sometimes now, even, but it’s not like that. And I missed you all when we were separated, was worried for you even, but it didn’t feel like this either. And it doesn’t make sense; this shouldn’t feel as bad. FRIDA’s alive, and I know where they are, and I can talk to them, and they still like me. Is this what being in love feels like?”

Ashton shrugs. “Wouldn’t know.”

ao3

“Yeah, you said that. Orym would. Maybe I should talk to him.”

Alarm bells start going off in Ashton’s head. “Don’t talk to Orym.” They put a hand on F.C.G.’s shoulder. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, but I do know that he’s been through a lot worse than what you’re dealing with. It might seem… I dunno, insensitive.”

“Oh. Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to try not to think about it, keep my mind off of them.”

“Yeah, that might help.”

It didn’t. Two days later, and F.C.G. is… not looking like he’s about to snap anymore, thankfully, but in a noticeably low mood.

“Have you talked to Letters recently?” Orym asks. “They seem a little… off.”

“Yeah. It’s stupid. Fucking lovesick robot.”

“Oh. This is about FRIDA?”

“Yeah.” Ashton tries to put as much disdain into the word as possible; he doesn’t want Orym to think he’s taking this whole thing seriously.

“You sound like you’re not taking it seriously.”

“I mean, it just feels like kind of an overreaction.”

“It’s how he feels. That’s totally valid.” Damn it, now they’re the one looking like an asshole. “Besides, things hit different when you’re in love. Spending time apart, seeing someone get hurt… losing them. Even the grief isn’t quite the same.”

“But how do we even know that they’re really in love? I mean—”

“Look at him.” Orym points at F.C.G. sitting separate from the rest of the group, head down. “He’s positively moping. Maybe I should talk to them.”

Ashton can only follow as Orym wanders over to sit beside F.C.G. “Hey, you seem kinda down lately. Feeling lonely?”

“N-No?” F.C.G. stutters, glancing at Ashton. “I-I’m fine.”

“It’s all right.” Ashton explains. “I told him.” They turn to Orym. “He… I didn’t want him to bother you.”

“Oh. Then, yeah, I guess I am kinda lonely. I mean, we agreed that y’all need me here, and that FRIDA didn’t want to leave Deanna alone, but I still miss them a lot.”

“Yeah.” Orym smiles. “That’s normal when you care about someone. What kind of things do you tell FRIDA, when you message them?”

“Just, y’know, anything new that’s happened, sometimes what y’all have been up to, or any plans we’re making for later. That kind of stuff.”

“Do you tell them that you miss them?”

“I mean, I’m sure they already know, and I only have so many words…”

“You should try it. Actually connect a little, not just make a diary entry. You know, I tell Will all the time that I miss him. He can’t answer, of course, and I don’t know if he even hears me, but it helps.”

F.C.G. tilts their head to the side, and their eyes seem to brighten a little. “Thanks, Orym. Maybe I’ll try that.” And they pull themself upright and roll away.

“Did you mean that?” Ashton asks Orym once they’re alone again. “About talking to Will?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Orym replies, seemingly surprised that Ashton would question it. “Every day.”

[linklethehistorian]

Since I have been searching for the past three fucking hours trying find an actual decent ASMR video that labels its shit correctly so I can FINALLY get back to fucking sleep (as at times like these I CANNOT WITHOUT THEM) and have very much lost ALL of my generosity towards this community, here is your very unfriendly reminder that you should treat ASMR like AO3 and your triggers each like a separate form of dead dove content when it comes to labeling them in your video title and descriptions.

I cannot tell you how much of my sleep and time has been lost in the moments I needed y’all most thanks to y’all’s sheer inconsiderate bullshit where you will NOT LIST YOUR TRIGGERS CORRECTLY EVEN FOR THE SAKE OF THOSE OF US WHO MISOPHONIA/SPD AND LITERALLY CANNOT LISTEN TO CERTAIN TRIGGERS.

Here is your unfriendly as hell reminder that:

If you start doing a trigger that is not listed in the title or description or at least implied with “various triggers” or something of the like, and do it for more than like 3-5 seconds, or even do it for 3-5 seconds more than once, I am clicking out of your video and probably making a mental note to never watch a single one of your videos going forward, because you have proven you can’t be trusted and don’t actually care about your audience. Extra bonus negative points against you if you label something “pure [x trigger]” but it isn’t actually pure [x trigger].

I get that if you’re used to/love doing a trigger, you can forget yourself and do it by accident, but you have this thing called editing on your side. You can literally take it the fuck out before you post the video. And if you refuse because you think it sounds nice, great!!! BUT TAG THAT SHIT. PUT IT IN THE TITLE. OR PUT IT IN THE DESCRIPTION.

I DON’T CARE HOW GOOD YOU THINK IT SOUNDS OR HOW UNIVERSALLY AGREEABLE YOU THINK THE TRIGGER IS.

IT AIN’T GOOD AND UNIVERSALLY AGREEABLE TO EVERYONE.

Also, if a trigger is going to be intermittent rather than constant, maybe TAG THAT SHIT TOO. Alternating between two triggers rather than doing both at once throughout the video can be the exact opposite of what some of us need in order to sleep, so it would be nice if you would please say “[x trigger] with some [x trigger]” rather than implying both will be all throughout the video.

I am so sick of having to sit through like up to 10 minutes of a video and even then have to click through and test parts of the rest just to determine if someone is being honest about the triggers in a video, possibly subjecting myself to something that will trigger my SPD severely and/or give me a headache just because your stupid asses can’t be bothered to think that just maybe you might be causing someone else distress by not appropriately labeling your content that you claim you create TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE RELAX AND SLEEP.

So once more for the people in the back:

Treat ASMR like AO3.

Treat every trigger in a video like it is a different form of dead dove content that you need to warn about and label it in the title or the description, no matter if you think you didn’t do it long or often enough to ‘warrant’ it.

Don’t say “pure [trigger]” if it isn’t PURE [trigger] all throughout.

If you start doing something by habit or accident in a video that was only supposed to be certain trigger or set of triggers, either edit that shit out or label it.

If you don’t want to label every trigger, saying “assorted/various triggers” is your ASMR equivalent of “author chose not to use archive warnings” and such. It tells us not to click if we don’t want to take that risk.

A TRIGGER BEING POPULAR DOES NOT MEAN IT IS UNIVERSALLY ACCEPTABLE TO ALL AND THEREFORE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE TAGGED. TAG IT ANYWAY.

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT PEOPLE WITH MISOPHONIA AND SPD EXIST AND WILL SUFFER FROM YOUR NEGLIGENCE IF YOU DON’T TAG THINGS PROPERLY.

I am now going back to one of the few fucking creators I can trust to watch a video that is only half effective anymore because I’ve listened to it so many times just because I know it can be trusted and I can so rarely find a decent, honest video from anyone else.

Good fucking night

I know this is a rant unrelated to anything I’ve ever talked about, and it’s probably something very few people are going to want to hear or be able to easily relate to, but as someone with SPD who listens to ASMR on a relatively frequent basis, I have to say that I am very, very tired of ASMRtists not tagging their videos correctly.

I love ASMR, and I love a lot of the wonderful creators out there, even if not all of them create content I personally can enjoy, because I know there are people out there who do enjoy it and I’m glad those people can find what they need, even if I can’t relate to wanting to listen to those triggers myself.

I mean no disrespect to any ASMRtist in particular when I say this, and I’m sure even the ones guilty of this means absolutely no harm; HOWEVER, again, as someone with SPD for whom hearing certain triggers can either cause an actual headache, extreme anxiety, or other types of terrible agitation and unpleasant — if not genuinely painful — sensations, I find it nonetheless incredibly irresponsible of content creators when they fail to properly label their videos in a way that honestly reflects its true nature.

Given that most ASMRtists do experience ASMR themselves, and there is a very noticeable connection of people who experience ASMR often also having some form of SPD or misophonia, or at the very least just having some trigger they don’t find relaxing and can’t watch, you would think that they would take more care and responsibility in labeling their works as they themselves understand what it can be like to experience this unpleasantness, but apparently you would think wrong — as I’ve encountered very few ASMRtists who actually take the time to get this right, much less many of the most popular ones.  Once more, I have nothing against someone creating videos I can’t watch or enjoy; if an ASMRtist wants to always, for example, include mouth sounds in every video they make, that’s fine with me, however, I do have a problem with it when said ASMRtist only labels some or even none of those videos at all as featuring mouth sounds, when, in fact, they all have them. If your video includes mouth sounds, label it. If your video includes tapping, label it. And so on and so forth. Even if it only includes it for a portion of the video, LABEL IT. There are some of us out there who can experience actual pain or other unpleasant effects from your videos if we click on one not realizing you intend to do something other than the trigger you named the video after! I don’t want to click onto your “mic scratching” video to be given a headache with your tapping or given the worst anxiety from your mouth sounds. Just because YOU like a trigger doesn’t mean everyone in the world won’t mind if you include it in your video with 0 warning to your viewers.

The ONLY exception to this rule with needing to label things, I feel, is basic whispering, and only because we have a specific label in the community for videos that don’t feature whispering — “NO TALKING”. If your video doesn’t say no talking, and I click onto it and find talking, that’s a given, it’s expected, I won’t be upset and have no right to be upset because if I truly wanted a “no talking” video, I would have looked for one with that label. It’s a known thing in the community. But every other trigger is an entirely different story. It your responsibility to your viewers as a content creator to LABEL your videos correctly. If you’re using a variety of triggers, tell us that. That’s fine. I don’t care if your videos aren’t for me. I’ll find content elsewhere. But don’t go labeling your videos as being one trigger and then include two in it, or as some of the WORST offenders of all do, label something “pure [trigger]”, as if it is a promise to feature only that, and then include some other sound in it anyway!!!

Stop lying to your viewers, regardless of whether it’s because you don’t think it matters because you like the particular trigger and assume everyone else will, because you don’t feel like labeling everything in it, or you don’t want to lose potential viewers to that video because they might not click if they knew what was in it. It will only make me inherently distrust and be more likely to avoid your content if I find that you do this.

[jimilter]

ain’t real cherry | p.jm. | one-shot (m)

🎧 candy by doja cat come my way by plvtinum

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+) 

genre: smut | humor | fluff | touches of angst if you really squint | college!au | roommate!au

summary: Not to be too sickeningly romantic, but his wank bank needed a desperate overhaul if he was ever going to stop being pathetic. He was done envisioning his roommate in positions he would never actually get to see her in.

And maybe, just maybe, this exercise would get him back in the game and he would actually be able to fuck people without your face in his head to push him over the edge, every single time. 

warnings: swearing + unresolved (?) sexual tension + nude photos + vivid descriptions of curvaceous female bodies + careless objectification of said bodies by horny college students + mentions of masturbation + heavy making out + sexual situations (oral (m+f), penetrative sex, dirty talk, softdom!jimin, switch!reader, choking, manhandling, rough sex, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, overstimulation, marking) + unrequited (?) lustful (?) pining [citation needed] + fuckboy tae with a dick for brain + unintended allusions to Ryan Reynolds’ dick + mentions of blue beanbags + mentions of erect dingalings +  explicit conversations featuring dingalings + i realize these are getting progressively more ridiculous so ima stop

word count: 24.2 k

note: IT’S FINALLY HERE! so this was the result of me obsessively listening to doja cat’s candy and daydreaming about jimin. i wanted to make a pwp-ish drabble out of this concept, but yet again, i kept adding backstory and it was nearing 5k words by the time things actually started to get heated up for real, so i decided to actually add more depth and plot to it, and — here we are, at more than three times the initially planned wordcount. i’ve been slaving since the beginning of june. why am i like this??? 😩😭

it’s really more than 15k words of pure filth, proceed with caution!

a few honorable mentions in the form of @getmemyfries who constantly helped me push through and finish this up. ily bby. 🥺💕 @ressjeon​ @sugasbabiie​ & @jamaisjoons​ for helping me out in the BS server when i was stuck! i appreciate y’all loadsss! 🥰❤

annnywayyy, hope y’all like this one, while i go work on the jk birthday fic before going back to the youth series. much love~ 🥺💜

↦ CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Late at night, do the things to him, mean that guy who Need someone who's sweet enough, who'll shoot to make that high note~

Park Jimin was having a surprisingly nice Wednesday. And you were the reason why.

The fact was surprising, because Wednesdays were one of the three days that housed the most despicable compulsory classes he'd ever sat in his life, Cognitive Psychology 101. He honestly still didn't get why he, a finance major, was forced through this torture – what was up with this university and its combinations, he didn't know. But since he had to endure it, he braved the class with a grimace and slumping on the very last row of seats in the lecture hall with Taehyung.

“You look happy today,” the guy in question mumbled around the lollipop in his mouth.

Jimin gave him a small grin, shrugging. “I just have these positive vibes going around my head this morning.”

Your words from this morning, aka, said positive vibes, still echoed in his head.

There’s this… guy I’ve kinda been thinking about. I’m, like, ready to put out if he’d take it, but I feel like I might be out of his league…

Jimin had wanted to hold you by your shoulders and tell you that no guy in the world—least of all on this campus—could ever be out of your league when you were Aphrodite, Persephone and Hera all rolled into one sexy as fuck human body. But he had refrained, only scoffing in disbelief and asking you to shoot your shot like the confident goddess you were—okay, he might not have refrained that well—while secretly hoping you’d jump him at the end of his encouraging speech.

And even though that didn’t happen, Jimin still wasn’t completely hopeless. 

“Vibe—what now? Positive? Head?” Taehyung looked at him in confusion, basic human language seemingly too complicated for him due to all the sex related jargon that filled his brain at all times. He suddenly leered, proving Jimin right. “Oh, wait! Is that a euphemism for morning head?”

Jimin choked on his next inhale, violently coughing as he shook his head, partially to negate what Taehyung said but partially to get rid of the sudden mental image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his—

Sweet mother of Jesus!

Taehyung simply shrugged at Jimin’s tiny meltdown and went back to his phone. He was simple like that, and Jimin kinda preferred it that way. Mostly.

Taehyung, much like Jimin, wasn't too fond of these classes. He had seemed like a chill person to Jimin when the dark haired guy first sat next to him, easy to get along with and talk to in order to pass time in class. But as three weeks had gone by and Jimin had had occasional hangouts with the guy outside of class, he had realised that Taehyung wasn't much fond of anything to do with education, in general. He was a performing arts student majoring in music and unnecessarily dipping his head in a couple of culture related subjects, when all he seemed to care about was working his vocal chords, grades be damned. 

That, along with the fact that Taehyung was a notorious fuckboy. If he wasn't lewdly ogling someone in class, he was sexting someone. Or looking at nudes. Or sifting through his contact list full of girls to look for someone to spend the night with.

Multiple times through the span of the weeks they’d sat together, he had encouraged Jimin to join in with him in one of the aforementioned activities to pass time in class. But Jimin had refused the offer. And not because he was a saint himself, not in the least. Jimin had had a filling and frivolous sexual life through high school and upped his game with trying new things through his freshman year in college — trying out every sex position possible, getting in bed with multiple partners at the same time, hooking up in the oddest of places, having sex with two brothers one after another, to name a couple stunts. 

But ever since his second year in college started and his previous roommate graduated and moved out to make space for you, things had started to change for Jimin.

You had entered his life as a temporary roommate, claiming plans of only lodging with him for a few weeks until you found yourself a sorority that would take you in. But a few weeks had changed into a few months, and then a few semesters — and now you’d been living with him for over a year, with your sorority plans tossed in a dumpster when you failed an exam and lost the eligibility. 

Somewhere in between, Jimin had developed the most gigantic crush of his life on you.

And, yes, it was the biggest cliche trope in the world to crush on your roommate, but he couldn’t help it, okay? You were sexy, gorgeous, witty, really caring when you needed to be, sexy, at the top of each one of your classes, made the best fried rice he had ever tasted and could hold your liquor almost better than Jimin could. Did he mention you were also impossibly sexy? Because you really really were. He’d never been one to objectify women, but damn did he want you to suffocate him with those thighs of yours. So with all of that, how could he not be completely infatuated with you?

Hence, he really was. And slowly but surely, his sleeping around had stopped as a result of said infatuation. He had found himself quickly turning into a pervert and an asshole of a huge degree when he noticed he had started to prefer fucking girls from behind so that he didn’t see their faces, and, well…could imagine yours in its place. He’d forgone getting it on with guys as a whole, because he couldn’t pretend with them. So yeah, he had decided he was better off jerking off in the confines of his room with your thoughts in his head. Better just a pervert than a perv and an asshole, right? 

You, though, were none the wiser about his developed feelings and still went around hooking up with and dating guys. Jimin didn’t really mind – he wasn’t in love with you by any means – until you didn’t bring back guys to your apartment, which you thankfully never did. It definitely hurt a bit, yeah, but it was his own fault for not telling you how he felt. Maybe you’d go easier on him and not loudly reiterate details of your sexual encounters and bad first dates to him over your shared meals. Maybe you’d confess to reciprocated attraction and actually fuck him. But, at the same time, maybe you would find it to be a breach of your trust on him and decide to move out and cut all ties with him forever. And therein was the reason why he hadn’t told you.

Something had been different as of late, though. 

You hadn’t slept with a single guy since the start of this term, and the last date you’d been on had been before the summers. At least from what you told him. But then, why would you lie when your usual breakfast conversation with Jimin consisted of descriptions of what some random one night stand from months ago had done with his tongue and how you hadn’t yet found someone who came close to replicating that?

Jimin had desperately wanted to volunteer himself, on an embarrassingly large number of occasions, but he had held back. At the end of the day, you were also one of the closest friends he had and he really didn’t wanna lose you because of sex. 

Now, though, he was getting ideas.

Was there a reason why you hadn’t been on a date in months and had refrained from sleeping around?

That, when put together with your conversation from this morning, was making Jimin think things.

Now, of course, you could be talking about literally anybody in the world because you’d given him no specifics. Hell, you could be talking about Ryan Reynolds, and he wouldn’t know! You hadn’t even specified if you even knew this guy personally, least of all if you were friends, or something.

But Jimin was still brimming with hope, because there was still a chance you could have been talking about him.

Jimin sighed to himself at the wishful thought.

The professor had started to drone about something to do with language ability and when the word “psycholinguistics” came up, Jimin decided it was time to tap out.

Taehyung sat manspreading next to him, intently focussed on his phone, not even trying to be subtle about not focussing on the class as he leant over the device. Jimin started a game of PAC-MAN on his laptop with an admirable straight face. His eyes met the professor’s by accident, though, but instead of freezing up and giving himself away, he gave the man a short nod with furrowed brows. His professor looked away after a satisfactory hum, and Jimin immediately moved to position his laptop between himself and the man’s line of sight properly, this time.

His own acting skills sometimes astounded him to the point where he thought of switching courses to Taehyung's bachelor’s.

He snorted at his thought, and caught said man's attention.

"What's so funny?" Taehyung asked with an amused grin, eyes still trained on his phone screen.

Jimin had just opened his mouth to respond when he saw Taehyung's grin change flavors. It became lecherous, all of a sudden, and when he licked his lips, Jimin averted his gaze with a grimace, mildly disturbed. 

Was Taehyung sexting someone, right now? Jimin hoped the guy wouldn’t pop a boner in the middle of the class for the sake of his own eyes. Shuddering in revulsion at the thought, Jimin looked back at his computer.

“Gosh, those hips,” Taehyung mumbled under his breath, and Jimin froze.

So he was looking at nudes, then. 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin had just started a new game when Taehyung tugged at his sleeve. “Look at this, Park, ugh, she’s so hot,” he mumbled, producing his phone before Jimin.

Jimin screwed his eyes shut, bringing his hand up to shield them, just to be safer. “Kim! Don’t show it to me! Someone sent it to you in confidence, don’t go around asking others to look!” he scolded Taehyung in a harsh whisper.

Taehyung clicked his tongue, moaning as if he was in actual pain. “Gosh, Jimin, I’d print these out and paste them on the walls of my bedroom if I could!”

Even though Jimin had detached himself from Taehyung’s grasp, his curiosity had peaked. But he still stared into his computer with a straight face, until the next set of words left Taehyung’s mouth.

“I’m seriously considering forwarding this to every single group chat I’m a part of so that people can tell me I’m not insane for wanting to lick my phone’s screen, man,” Taehyung nearly whined.

“Kim!” Jimin’s hand flew to grab Taehyung’s phone in alarm, and he snatched it away before the other guy could blink. “What the hell is going on with you today? Fucking around is one thing but compromising a girl’s trust and privacy is something else! Stop talking about spreading the pictures around!”

After his little tirade was done with, Taehyung rightfully looked somewhat chastised. But then he pushed his lower lip out in a pout. “It’s not even pictures, it’s just a picture. Only one. And that has me going insane.” He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, and Jimin leant away, warily. “Imagine what it would be like to dig my hands into those shapely hips, that plump as fuck ass, God's above—oh! I’ll probably bite into the meat of her—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s enough erotica from you!” Jimin interrupted him, entire face scrunched up in a scowl as he rested Taehyung’s phone on the other side of his own laptop. He still didn't trust the guy to not shred someone’s privacy to pieces in his haze of lust. “Don't drool so hard, dude, come on. It’s 2021, she probably photoshopped some bits.”

Taehyung shook his head, eyes looking a bit blown out. “Trust me on this, Park, I can tell the difference between fake and real. And those stretch marks wrapping up delicately like a fucking vine around her hips? They’re as real as they come.”

Jimin swallowed, fighting against the visual of your thighs and the threading stripes of olive that ran along the sides of your knees. “I still think you’re overreacting a bit.”

Taehyung looked offended at that. “Well, you’re saying that because you haven’t seen it! Just — just take a goddamned look, Park, it’s right there and the screen isn’t even locked.”

Jimin inhaled through his mouth. “No. It’s wrong, and—”

“Jesus Christ, her face isn’t even in it!”

That gave Jimin a pause. His eyes darted to the device, and just as he’d registered the silhouette of a curvy, olive torso, he snapped his head back. “It's still immoral!”

“For the love of—fine, gimme my phone, I’ll text her and ask if it’s okay for you to see it, alright?” Taehyung hissed in his face, brows lowered in irritation. “Stop acting like a fucking priest, and look at the damn photo, Park!”

And before Jimin could react, Taehyung’s long-ass arms with his long-ass fingers had ripped the device off Jimin’s desk and shoved it in his face.

Jimin sucked in a breath. He had been having a surprisingly nice Wednesday, and his pessimistic ass was basically waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. Maybe this would be it, this immoral leering— 

“Holy fuck, those hips!” he exclaimed, wide eyes drinking up the female torso on the screen.

It was a picture taken in a mirror, with the girl standing facing to the side. It began right at the fullness of her breasts, capturing the taut peaks of her dark nipples and golden stretch lines near the lower curves of her full breasts. Her stomach was tight but had a soft curve below her navel, which then tapered into a shaved triangle of soft skin that disappeared into the juncture of her meaty thighs that she’d strategically crossed to hide her pussy from sight. But the main attention grabbing attraction were the wide, sloping, round hips that her trim waist tapered into. She had an hourglass figure, with the juiciest curve connecting her waist to her legs.

Jimin breathed out. It was a really artfully clicked picture, alluring to the point where Jimin felt his mouth water just staring at it.

“Do you get it now?” Taehyung sounded to be in pain, and Jimin could understand.

Yep, he got it now.

“It’s the first picture she’s sent that’s why she’s hidden the cooch, but honestly? I don’t even miss it right now,” Taehyung mumbled, now looking at the picture himself.

Jimin secretly agreed, not even needing to look at the picture to confirm anymore, now that he had it seared in his brain.

Out of nowhere, an image of you lounging on the sofa in an oversized shirt and little else as you watched the TV entered his thoughts.

He groaned at the mental image of your thighs and groaned further when his brain automatically pictured them wrapped around his waist as he drove into—

No! 

Nobody’s driving nothing nowhere.

His eyes widened in panic when he felt his jeans tightening.

No. Nope. Think ugly thoughts! Think psychology – think fucking psycholinguistics! Think gross men! Taehyung! The psych professor! Taehyung's tongue! Taehyung's tongue on the psych professor's face!

Sufficiently calmed down, Jimin breathed easier when he felt himself wilt. 

He bit down on his bottom lip, exhaling harshly in frustration. As if lusting on one temptress wasn't too fucking much to handle for his brain, now he had two.

And to think his Wednesday had been going good!

Jimin delayed getting back to his flat as much as he could, instead choosing to spend long hours in the library with his nose buried in a Napoleon Hill he'd been planning to read for a long time.

But his mind, the betraying fucker, completely refused to decipher the literature before him. It, instead, insistently played loops of imaginary scenarios featuring a delicious pair of curvaceous hips that made Jimin’s head hurt and pants tighten. And if he somehow battled his way out of those, it immediately switched to the image of your thighs, and Jimin honestly couldn’t decide what was worse.

He was embarrassed by it all, hating how he seemed to be unable to control all the horny thoughts in his mind like a thirteen year old who’d seen porn for the first time. He’d had his share of hot women—and men—in his bed, he should have been good at controlling himself from physically reacting to the thoughts of a sexy body. And he really had been, in the past. He couldn’t understand what the catch was, this time.

Maybe your words from this morning had caused more short circuits in his head than he had knowledge of.

In any case, he desperately didn't wanna face you when he was having such a hard time controlling himself. He had even considered going home with one of the girls on Taehyung’s list of potential booty calls to take the edge off. But the memories of the last few one night stands he’d had left him scarred. He did not wanna fuck another girl from behind and climax to the image of your face painted behind his eyelids.

He left the library at eight when it closed, avoiding the librarian’s shocked but curious gaze when she had to escort him out. He understood her completely, though. This was the first ever time he’d actually sat in this particular building on the campus in his more than two years of college, let alone stay till closing like a nerdy bookworm.

He trudged his way to the train station on heavy legs as he left the campus, earphones plugged in and some rap playlist playing some Eminem song to drown out the erotic images in his head. 

The ride to his apartment was a really short one, and within fifteen minutes of leaving the library, he was climbing up the stairs to his first floor flat.

He switched off the distractingly good music as he unlocked the door. He was pleasantly surprised to find out his distraction had worked, when the sight of your side profile as you sat huddled up on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts with your hair in a bun atop your head didn’t cause any stirrings in his pants.

“Hey!” he greeted you, shutting and locking the door behind him as he moved to hang up his keys on his designated hook next to the door.

“You were out till late,” you mumbled, sulky face giving him a once over before you went back to stare at the TV.

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. You could not be wearing this expression because he was late, could you? 

He dared not hope. 

Toeing off his shoes, he gave a shrug. “The weather was nice, out there. Kinda stayed and lounged around the gardens on campus,” he lied, knowing full well that you’d bombard him with a million questions if he told you he had uncharacteristically stayed at the library. “Lost track of time.”

You simply hummed in response, looking almost petulant as you crossed your arms against your chest with a pout. "I got some fried chicken on my way back, it's in the fridge," you spoke in pout. "Have some if you want."

"I will, in a while, yeah. Thanks." Jimin bit his lip to hold back an amused smile, endeared by your cuteness and welcoming the fucking change in his channel of thoughts. “What’s up with you, though, grumpy? You okay?” he asked you, walking up to his room to toss his belongings in.

“I’m not grumpy,” you called out very grumpily, and this time Jimin let a hearty laugh escape him. “Don’t lau~gh!” you whined.

Jimin quickly switched out his jeans for a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to shut his door when he knew you were seated facing the opposite side. He wouldn’t even mind if you did look, he was wearing his boxers, it won’t be that bad. 

Was he…perhaps…hoping you would look?

Jimin cleared his throat to derail that train of thoughts before it could end up being a devastating trainwreck.

"Come on, what is it?" he asked again, walking towards the fridge to extract a bottle of water. "You get graded today, or something?"

You scoffed at that. "I'm above letting my grades dictate my mood, Park, you know that! Not that I have room to complain when I've never gotten anything less than perfect," you smugly said, shooting him a smirk over your shoulder. 

He had to work very hard to not choke on the next sip of water he took. He quickly capped the bottle and put it back to avoid any further incidents. Why did you have to look so goddamn hot doing literally absolutely everything?

Jimin walked up to crash on the couch next to you, hooking a knee over the armrest and letting the other leg spread out towards the floor. One of his arms dangled off the back of the couch while he ran the other hand through his hair with a roll of his eyes. He purposely faced away from you.

"Sure, never – except that one time. Basically the only time it really mattered," Jimin teased, bringing up last year's fall semester.

"What?" You looked confused with a frown on your face.

Jimin chuckled. "Yeah, sure. As if you would ever forget failing that test. As if I didn't hear you lament about getting rejected from that one sorority for literal weeks."

"Oh!" you sounded genuinely surprised this time, and he chanced a curious glance.

Only to find you looking at the TV with a frown. Were you really that preoccupied? You couldn't possibly have actually forgotten, it was one of the biggest failures of your life. Or so you had said, back then.

"Yeah, but it's kinda good I got…y'know, rejected," you continued, lips morphing into a pout again and Jimin looked away. "I'm not even friends with Kira anymore, and she was why I wanted to join that srat in the first place.”

Jimin felt bummed. He was almost hoping you’d say it was good you got rejected because you found him. Like, not like that, but as friends. Because you guys were pretty good friends, and putting the sexual attraction aside—though it really was damn near impossible for him to even envision not being attracted to you—he was grateful you got rejected from that sorority because he cherished your company as a friend a lot.

You were a good listener, a fun drink buddy and, most importantly, you made some mean fried rice. It was the best he ever had, okay? It reminded him of his mother's cooking! He wasn't made of stone to not grow soft at that!

“Anyways! Grades are not the reason,” you said with an even more defined pout on your face.

Jimin gave a small hum, smiling fondly. “The reason for? Your grumpiness? So, you admit you’re being grumpy!”

You stuck your tongue out at him in response, and Jimin froze, fondness slipping from his mind as lust gripped at him. 

The sight of your tiny, pink, glossy tongue nearly made his vision go blurry with the blood rush that took place in him. His sweatpants could not have been doing a good job of hiding his erection, but he could not be bothered to think past the images flooding him.

A kaleidoscope of carnality burst open in his head, every single one of the pieces featuring your tongue smoothing over a different part of his body – flicking over his nipple, licking down his neck, diving between his abs, dipping into his navel… tangling up with his own… wrapping around the tip of his—

“Jimin?”

He blinked, snapping his involuntarily gaping mouth shut with a clack. He could only imagine how starved his eyes must have looked, going by the desperate longing that seared through him. He was very nearly salivating over you, sitting one foot away from you! And he was painfully hard.

He had also, very inconveniently, not heard a word of what you just said.

Covertly lowering his leg from the handrest to loosen up some of the fabric of his sweatpants over his crotch, Jimin shook his head to physically dissipate the daze fuzzing up his head.

Fucking hell, he was way too much sexually pent up!

“Sorry, sorry, I zoned out,” he mumbled in apology, pulling his gaze off your frowning face to look at the TV. You were watching some American sitcom he knew nothing about. He focussed on a bald, skinny guy that was poking his nose and willed his arousal to calm down. “You were saying?”

“Can you please stop daydreaming when I’m in a crisis?” you grumbled.

Jimin nearly scoffed. If only it were that easy to control his head. He was nearly in a crisis, too, at this point. His eyebrows suddenly rose when it registered. “Wait, crisis? What happened?”

“Um… you remember the guy I told you about? This morning?” you sounded nervous, and his heartbeat picked up.

Oh, he remembered, alright. 

Jimin’s throat bobbed with a dry click. 

“Uh huh?” he managed to mumble, bracing himself.

"I think he's got a nice dick."

Jimin wasn't even drinking water, he choked on fucking air.

Your concerned voice said something, but Jimin couldn't hear you over his hacking coughs and the pulse pounding loudly in his ears. 

What the fuck did you just say?

What?

WHAT?

"Jimin!" 

He dry-heaved, wiping at his watering eyes when he could finally breathe easily. "I'm sorry… I was… I just…" he panted between long, drawn out breaths.

You looked concerned and confused. "Are you okay? You're being weird. Did something happen at college?"

Jimin vehemently shook his head. "I had psych today, my mind’s just in a bad space."

You pursed your lips, seemingly not believing him, but thankfully let it go.

So you thought your mystery guy had a nice dick.

Jimin's spirits fizzled away like froth. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him, because you didn't know what his dick looked like. 

Well, not unless you'd been a pervert and peeked. Which he really didn't believe you had done or would ever do.

But then again, you said you "thought" the guy's dick was nice. Implying, you could very well be using your imagination and fantasizing.

You could still, hypothetically, be talking about Ryan Reynolds.

He needed more information.

He cleared his throat, this time bracing himself for any more bombshells you could possibly drop on him. He breathed through his nose and vowed to not gasp no matter what came out of your mouth in response to his question.

"So… his dick, huh?" he asked, trying to be as casual as he could be, putting a curved index finger in front of his lips as he stared at the TV. He could’ve been asking about the weather, given the casual aura he eluded. "Did you, uh, see it?"

He sensed you shrug in his periphery. "Not really. Just the outline. The bulge, if you may. And it looked so good, Jimin," you nearly moaned and he nearly became hard again.

Because—

Fuck.

You had seen a bulge.

It could very well have been his bulge.

In fact, there was a very, very high possibility that it was his bulge, given how careless he'd recently been about stripping down to his boxers where you could see him. Like, subtly, of course, but still. He left his room's door open when he changed, these days. You were in your room, and if not, sat with your back to his room and your eyes glued to the TV screen, the way you had been this evening. But you could very easily look if you tried.

You could really have seen his bulge.

And thought that it looked nice.

So much so, that you considered yourself to be in a crisis right now, just thinking about it.

His breath hitched. Was he dreaming?

A voice from the back of his mind suddenly slid to the forefront:

You could also, just as plausibly, be talking about Ryan Reynolds' dick!

Jimin swore to himself under his breath.

You really could still be talking about literally anybody because guys tended to be casual about their semis. Pair that up with tightly fitted jeans or thin clothed sweatpants, and the result would be what you saw: a dick's outline. Celebrities were sometimes photographed that way, too.

"Why're you distressed, hun?" he quizzed further, hoping you wouldn't catch the lower octave his disappointed voice had taken.

“I just…I wanna suck it. His cock."

"What the—" Jimin broke off, remembering his plans of breathing through the nose and not gasping.

"What?" you irritably threw a scowl his way. "Don't be a prude, you've heard worse from me."

Jimin nodded with a grimace. He indeed, very painfully, had. "I, uh…" He paused to clear his throat. "Why's — why's that a crisis?"

You looked at him as if he was stupid. Which he really, really was, but probably not for the reasons you thought. "Jimin! How am I supposed to ask a guy to suck his dick when I haven't even seen his dick? That'd be so slutty!"

Jimin licked his lips, his eyes zeroing in on your plump ones. Yep, he could totally picture it and it looked more than slutty — it looked obscene and depraved and filthy and sexy as fuck.

He harshly exhaled through his mouth. Why was he being tested like this? What had he ever done to deserve this torture? Did some previous jaded lover of his do some black magic on him? Or worse yet, did some previous jaded lover of his put you up to this task of teasing and torturing him to the brink of insanity?

Jimin pulled his lower lip into his mouth. "Don't judge." He let go of his lip with a pop, his voice coming out borderline raspy. His eyes wandered away from you when he figured he would probably command you to look at him with his next words. "Some guys like it slutty. Maybe your – maybe yours would be into it."

God knew Jimin was. So, so super into it.

You hummed, thoughtfully. "You don't think it'd turn him off?"

"Not in the least," Jimin murmured, gaze snapped back to yours, lips parting as he gulped a heavy breath in. You were looking away in thought. "I think it'd drive him insane."

"So, what? I just – tell him?"

"Depends," Jimin throatily responded, a complete goner now with his semi-erect cock marking a wet spot against his sweatpants, and visions of your thighs wrapped around his waist running free in his head, now that he didn't try to rein them in, anymore. "If he's someone that likes to be told, you do that. But if he's someone who likes to tell," Jimin paused, waiting for you to connect your clueless eyes with his, "you ask him."

Your lips parted and eyes widened. "You – you mean, like, seek permission? To suck his cock? What kind of a guy would ever say no to that?"

A cocky smirk ticked up Jimin's cheek. "The kind that doesn't feel you deserve it."

He saw it – the momentary glaze that cast over your eyes – it wasn't a trick of the light from the TV, your pupils had actually, really expanded. 

But then you blinked and your nose wrinkled up. "You're into some kinky dom shit, aren't you, Park?"

And just like that, the trance broke and Jimin floated back to earth. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, well aware of the pink climbing up his cheeks. 

He forced a roll of his eyes. "Just ask him, you little shit," he muttered, crossly. "It's just as you said, no guy would reject a proffered blowjob."

He almost hoped you would ask him.

Almost.

He kept observing you from the corner of his eye as you kept worrying your bottom lip, gaze hung on some invisible point in space. And then you started to nod, looking resolute as you raised your head to meet his eyes.

His heart stopped when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Okay. Uh, yeah, I’ll ask him. Yep, that’s—that’s a great idea. Thanks, Jimin,” you mumbled in a rush, looking somewhat out of it, probably because you were picturing asking the guy.

And just like that, Jimin sank into himself.

He gave you a brittle smile as you nodded at him. “No problem. Always happy to help,” he said, the words acerbic in his mouth.

You proceeded to get up from the couch. “Alright then, I’m off to sleep. Got a seven am class tomorrow,” you told him, but his helpless eyes were stuck to the strip of your golden skin visible above your shorts as your shirt rose – a hint of your gorgeous butterfly tattoo peeked out, taunting him. 

He wanted to trace its royal blue wings with his tongue. Jimin licked his lips, gaze gliding past your plump ass to land on your thighs. He drank them up while you stretched, trying hard and failing at his attempts to not imagine his teeth digging into the softness of your skin as you writhed underneath him. 

“Good night, Chim.”

At his nickname, Jimin swapped his eyes up to meet yours. You were already looking at him, but he found no annoyance or even suspicion in them. Had you not noticed him eye-fucking you? His brows furrowed a bit. 

“Yeah, good night,” he mumbled, shutting his eyes to the view of your jiggling butt as you walked away.

Jimin released a deep sigh.

Even after a whole year of him making eyes at you, you were interested in sucking other dicks. Why was he even bothering anymore?

He was gonna forget all about your thighs and your ass when he looked at the most deliciously curvaceous pair of hips he’d ever seen, again, tomorrow, he promised himself. He would ogle them lewdly, drink his fill. He would replace every lustful desire he ever had for you by directing it towards someone else. He would.

But tonight, he would have to be the weaker man one last time and soothe his day-long blue balls by the aid of his fantasies of your naked body in his arms.

God, he was pathetic.

Taehyung's sexting with the Curvaceous Goddess from yesterday morning had progressed drastically. The guy could barely speak over the drool in his mouth.

"She's sent me multiple shots of those hips, man," Taehyung mumbled with a barely held back moan as Jimin made his way out of the psych class with him. "And a couple of her boobs. Gotta admit, though, I didn't pay that much attention to them. But her nipples look really biteable. Do you wanna see?”

Jimin very reluctantly shook his head. He was barely able to handle himself with the one picture he’d seen. Anymore, and he’d been walking around the college building with an erection.

Taehyung shrugged. “Your call. Hey, maybe I should ask her for some close-ups of those areolas! I gotta…" trailing off in a mumble, Taehyung started to furiously type on his phone.

Staying true to the promise he made to himself, Jimin had dutifully spent the entirety of the class staring at the woman's picture from yesterday – saving her gorgeous body's every texture, every blemish and every beauty mark to his memory. So that it'd be this body that came to his mind when he tightened his fist over himself in the middle of the night.

Not to be too sickeningly romantic, but his wank bank needed a desperate overhaul if he was ever going to stop being pathetic. He was done envisioning his roommate in positions he would never actually get to see her in. Or, at least, he should have been done. He was sure as hell gonna work on it, though.

And maybe, just maybe, this exercise would get him back in the game and he would actually be able to fuck people without your face in his head to push him over the edge. 

"She says she'd send her ass when she gets back from class, today!" Taehyung suddenly exclaimed, waving the chat screen of his phone in front of Jimin's face. "Wow, dude, this girl is something else."

Jimin gave a small rise to his brows at Taehyung's lovestruck eyes. The dude literally fell in love every week, it wouldn't be a surprise if he felt he'd fallen again. Even when he hadn't seen the girl's face, yet alone actually met her in person. 

"Show me, too, when you get it."

Taehyung shot him a grin. "See, that's the kind of stuff I like hearing from you, Park! We're young, we're warm blooded – the world expects us to be perverted. We're literally being disappointments by showing morals."

Jimin had to laugh at that, choosing to see the words in a humorous light instead of beginning to correct them. 'Cause where to even start? And knowing how much he did of Taehyung, the guy most definitely believed in his flawed logic, wholeheartedly.

"So, where to, next?"

Jimin hummed. "I got Econometrics in half an hour. Probably gonna crash in the cafeteria. You?"

Taehyung looked lost in thoughts, looking straight up ahead. Jimin knocked shoulders with him to grab the guy’s attention, causing Taehyung to look at him with a start. "Uh? Oh! I was actually thinking I'd pay her a visit. I've got Music Theory in three hours. Much time to spare."

Jimin's jaw dropped open. "You – you're gonna visit her? You don't even know her name, dude! Or what she looks like!"

Taehyung blinked, very slowly, before letting a smirk curl up his face. He raised an eyebrow. "And she doesn't know any of that about me, either. But… I wasn't actually talking about her, Park."

Jimin gawped. "What? But you—"

"I was talking about her," Taehyung emphasized with a finger pointing at a girl standing a few feet away from them, eyeing Taehyung with her tongue flicking her lips.

Jimin blanched. Oh fuck, this was embarrassing.

"Although," Taehyung continued because the subtle humiliation had apparently not been enough, "I do see what goes on in your head, Park. Despite your strict moral code."

Jimin rolled his eyes. "We were just talking about her, dude, come on."

"Uh huh. That is exactly why you sounded so panicked and jealous, too, right?"

This time, Jimin scoffed. "I was certainly not jealous. Or panicked. I was taken aback."

Taehyung laughed. "Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Or, stay awake at night, in this case."

Jimin was left fuming as Taehyung made his way over to the girl he’d actually been talking about. He had to admit, he did feel somewhat foolish. It wasn’t like him to zone out so badly, or not be able to catch the context of a conversation like this, or not be aware of his surroundings. He’d always been remarkably sharp at it, in fact. And if his brain hadn’t been all jumbled since last night, he still would’ve been.

With a silent curse aimed at himself, Jimin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and started walking towards the cafeteria. 

If all boiled down to it, it wasn’t even his fault that he was so lost. It was yours.

Jimin grimaced when last night’s events floated up to the forefront of his brain. He really did not need a reminder to feel worse about his situation with you. For a few moments, today, he’d even wondered if it would be better for you two to stop living together. But he would never in a million years kick you out, and he himself was way too selfish to willingly leave your shared living spaces.

Stepping into the cafeteria, he beelined for the counter. Ordering himself a mocha and a puff pastry, he pulled his phone out.

Only for his brows to jump when he discovered two unread messages from you.

roomie🌸💗 anthro proff failed to show up yAY ME going back home

Jimin rolled his lower lip between his teeth. Why were you being a good friend when he wanted to avoid you? You were making everything hard in his life – figuratively and literally.

With a snort at his own joke, he sent back a string of emojis and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

In the middle of his coffee and snack, he let his mind be plagued by the images of Taehyung’s nudes girl. 

Ew. He needed to refer to her with something better, because that was a huge turn off, right there.

Jimin suddenly realised that this could turn into a problem if Taehyung actually ended up pursuing something more than a one night stand with the girl. Because, after all, the girl was sending nudes to obviously pursue something with Taehyung. Jimin probably should not be worrying all that much because Taehyung wasn’t even the last guy he would picture getting into a relationship in the middle of Junior year.

But this whole switching-my-lust thing he was doing was still not very healthy, was it? No, it wasn’t.

Jimin realised that it was a borderline toxic coping mechanism. He needed closure to get over the unfortunate crush/obsession/infatuation he had on/of/with you. Replacing one obsession with another was counterproductivity at its best. But he really couldn't afford any closures, no matter what. The whole reason why he was so stuck was that he couldn’t risk your friendship with him because his hormones were out of control. Telling you to get over would defeat the whole purpose of getting over you.

So he had to make do with his next best option – making his dumb mind realise that there were other things to get turned on by than your thighs. Even if it ended up being slightly destructive. But it couldn’t really be that bad when he hadn’t even seen this girl’s face, right? 

Probably not, but he didn’t care all that much.

Just as he’d gotten up to toss his empty cup and paper plate into the bin, his phone pinged with a message. Wondering—and somewhat hoping, like the pathetic idiot he was—if you were, uncharacteristically, informing him that you’d reached your flat, he quickly pulled the device out of his pocket.

By the time he unlocked it, three more successive messages had arrived in his inbox.

All of them were from Taehyung.

kim from psych ITS HEREEEE COME TO TJE PARKIMG LOT HOLY FUCKLKLKKK JIMINNNMM SJE HAS A TATTOO ASDFKKHHGDHSJ HURTY THE FUVK UP IMA START JACKIJG OFF SOOM

Jimin cursed under his breath, grabbing his backpack to rush out of the cafeteria.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he jogged down to the parking lot. He was gonna miss his class – and Econometrics was one of the important subjects – but he honestly couldn’t be bothered, right now.

He was slightly out of breath by the time he reached Taehyung.

The guy really did look like he was minutes away from unzipping his pants right there, sitting on the hood of what was probably his own car. Huffing out a small laugh, Jimin walked up to him.

“So,” Jimin said as a means of greeting. “That good, huh?”

Taehyung’s trousers were very obviously tented, and despite the grossness, Jimin couldn’t judge him. He’d nearly had a similar reaction to the girl’s hips. He could sympathize with the guy.

“Kim?” Jimin called out with a laugh, making Taehyung startledly look up from his phone with his pupils swallowing nearly the entirety of his irises. “Holy shit, don’t come in your pants, dude!”

Taehyung released a pained groan, face contorting as if he was in actual, physical pain. Going by the condition of his crotch, he might actually have been. “Park,” he nearly moaned, “she told me to video call.”

Jimin's eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, dude. Congrats… I guess?”

Taehyung bit his lip, finally repositioning himself to make his erection slightly more covert. “I'm not ready, dude.”

Jimin cocked a single brow. “Evidence says you’re more than ready, Tae. Um, on that account,” he hesitantly began, almost not wanting to but knowing his inner moral compass would keep him awake through multiple nights on end if he didn’t. “You don’t have to show me the picture if things are, um, progressing between you guys. It’d be mo—”

“Don’t you fucking say morally wrong, you ass. I’m trying to fuck her, not marry her. You can even have a go after—” He suddenly cut himself off, frowning down at his crotch. “Awh, man, there goes my boner! Why’d you have to make me talk about relationships?”

JImin stifled a laugh. Taehyung was the poster child for college fuckboys, it seemed. Not that he didn’t know the fact beforehand, it was just hilarious and more than a little awakening to see him go through it, up close. “Um, sorry?”

“Just look at the fucking picture, Park!” Taehyung snarled, shoving his phone in Jimin’s unprepared hands.

Juggling a bit to catch the device before it could drop, Jimin had barely held the phone with the screen facing him, when—

He froze.

His breath halted and his heart skipped a couple of beats.

Everything around him came to an immediate, screeching stop.

He didn’t even have the time to ogle the glorious twin globes separated by a thin strip of burgundy red running down the middle, because his attention was caught by—

Holy fuck, he was so so so royally fucked, thoroughly, in every single orifice in his body.

There, in the smack dab center of the screen, right above the barely there string of the red thong running across the luscious hips he’d fallen in love with in just a day — there sat his undoing.

A bright, royal blue and black butterfly tattoo.

The butterfly tattoo he’d been peeking at for a year now.

Your butterfly tattoo.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

HOLY! FUCK!

“See?” Taehyung’s whiny voice pulled him out of the despairing pool of absolute shock, blinding lust and utter agony he was spiraling into. “I can’t, man, I really can’t. If this is what her pictures do to me, oh God, the video call’s gonna kill me. And I can’t fucking wait to die a sated man!”

Taehyung’s words suddenly poured a bucket of iced water over Jimin, making him bodily jolt out of the remainder of his stupor.

The reality of the situation suddenly hit him – you’d been sending your nude pictures to Kim Taehyung. You were about to have a video chat with him. You intended to fuck him. Taehyung. Kim motherfucking Taehyung.

Oh no. Not on Jimin’s watch.

Molten jealousy filled up all his veins as he saw Taehyung getting comfortable in the backseat of his car with all the tinted glass windows. This fucker.

Uncaring how barbaric it made him out to be, Jimin decided he was not gonna let Taehyung actually see you on video before he’d at least had the chance to confront you about this whole thing. From what he knew of you and how much he understood, you weren’t the kind of girl to fall into the traps of the biggest fuckboy on our campus. There had to have been a major reason behind these actions of yours.

He had to talk to you — if not as someone who wanted to be the one to fuck you instead of Taehyung, then at least a friend and a well wisher who was worried about your well-being and emotional health.

“You can’t call her, Kim,” Jimin declared with a calm finality. 

Taehyung did a double take. “Wh—did you say can’t? What? Why the fuck?”

“You just… shouldn’t. It’s not fair to her.” Jimin was really on the verge of a mental freak out.

“What the fuck, dude?” Taehyung looked irritated and more than a little indignant. “Fair to her? Who’re you, her caretaker all of a sudden? She literally asked for it!”

Jimin pursed his lips, swinging the phone out of his reach when Taehyung made to grab it. “You should tell her you showed me her pictures before you call her.”

“Dude! No, the fuck? Stop being a moral fucker! Is this girl your sister? Your girlfriend?” Taehyung looked a bit lost at Jimin’s sudden distress.

Jimin frowned. “No, none of those, but she’s—”

“Wait, so you do know her?” Taehyung looked surprised, and Jimin was surprised that he’d actually shown some use of his brain. “How’d you even recognise her? Wait! The tattoo?”

Jimin looked away, bitterly. “Yeah, the tattoo.” He exhaled, deciding to be upfront. “Look, Kim. I’ve been besotted with this girl for a really long time, okay? So—”

“So nothing, man! I didn’t come at her, okay? She was the one to approach me, and really boldly too with that nude of hers.” Taehyung suddenly narrowed his eyes. “And how can I even believe you? Maybe you’re lying because suddenly you wanna fuck her first!”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but Taehyung’s words did reach him. You really had approached Taehyung boldly. It hurt like a bitch that you were willing to fuck the campus fuckboy, actual personification of scum, but not him. Not Jimin, who cared about you enough to not try to fuck you.

What a world.

“She’s told me to be online at—oh fuck, in ten minutes! Give me my phone before I tackle you, Park!” Taehyung yelled from inside the car.

Jimin pursed his lips in thought. You had texted him about being home, hadn’t you? If he left now, he could get there in under ten minutes, and—

And what, then?

Well, at least talk to you before you showed Taehyung your face and cemented your place in the guy’s bed.

Mind made up, Jimin tossed Taehyung’s phone below the driver’s seat to buy him more time as he ran for it. 

“Hey, hey, what—Park, you fucking bitch!” 

Ignoring Taehyung’s calls, Jimin rushed through the college gates and sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouldering people out of his way—but also mumbling a litany of apologies along with it because he could picture his mother’s disapproving gaze—he didn’t even pause to catch his breath until he was scrambling down the stairs of the subway.

As fate would have it, the doors of the parked train were just beginning to slide shut when Jimin set foot on the platform.

Cursing, he leapt from the last stair, his feet meeting the ground just twice as he dived into the train, two seconds before the gates sealed shut.

Doing a victorious, little fist pump, he finally allowed himself to catch his breath, leaning his hands on his knees. When he straightened, a couple of people around him were looking at him weird. But he couldn’t let anything bother him — he was a man on a mission.

Within three minutes, the train was stopping at the next stop and Jimin was running out the gates and straight out of the subway. 

As he stepped up the stairs to his flat, sweat was soaking his white t-shirt and he was hating himself for wearing skin tight jeans. Jogging up to the door, he quickly unlocked the apartment and rushed in, locking the door behind him. Haphazardly taking his shoes off and tossing the keys somewhere on the couches, he beelined for your room.

Hesitating only once, he turned the doorknob. It was locked.

You were getting ready to have virtual sex with Taehyung.

Clenching his jaw, he rapped his palm against the door thrice, his rings helping louden the sound.

He fidgeted, nervous out of his mind. He couldn’t even think about what he would say to you, way too occupied with the task of stopping you from making that call to Taehyung.

He called your name, followed by two more successive raps.

For a frightening second, he feared he was too late and you had already started with your—

“Jimin, is that you?” you yelled from inside the door.

Jimin squared his shoulders. “Open up! It’s urgent!”

Sounds of shuffling filtered through the door to him before you unlocked it and nearly tore it off the hinges with the strength you pulled it open with.

“What?” you barked, scowling at him. But then suddenly your frown melted away as your eyes did a quick sweep of his breathless, sweaty self, lingering—he noticed—around his neck. “What the hell, Jimin? Where’re you coming from?”

Jimin decided to do some exploration of his own.

Your face was flushed, chest heaving up and down—

And—

And Jimiin was fixated on your prominent nipples pushing against the oversized black t-shirt you’d obviously tossed over yourself in a hurry. He’d glimpsed your breasts in that very delicious photo, of course, but he’d fixated on your hips and not paid them enough attention. He regretted saying no to Taehyung's offer of looking at the boob pic you’d sent him, because…

Jimin’s thoughts faded out when he came back to himself.

You had sent Taehyung a pic of your boobs, too. The way Jimin felt like punching through a fucking wall!

“Stop staring at my boobs, pervert!” you suddenly scolded him, clicking your fingers in front of his face. “What was so urgent? I’m kinda in the middle of—”

“Please don’t do it,” he blurted, wide-eyed at his own brazenness, but he just felt so desperate, at this point.

You gaped at him. “What?”

“Don’t – don’t fuck him, please,” he continued arms darting forward to hold you by your shoulders.

You stiffened in his grasp, eyes going impossibly wide. “Jimin, what—are you – are you okay? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

He grew pained. “Taehyung. Don’t fuck him.”

He saw you draw in a sharp breath. “I wasn’t actually—wait, how do you know this?”

He rolled his lower lip into his mouth. “Well…he told me.”

You jumped away from him with your mouth dropped open. “What? How the hell do you even knowhim?”

“I sit with him in my psych class."

"In your psych—" You suddenly gasped. "The eccentric fuckboy!”

Jimin blinked, lip leaving the confines of his teeth with a plop.  He didn’t miss the way your eyes dropped down to it for a moment. “What?”

“After your first class together, you told me you'd found a fuckboy with eccentric fashion choices to sit with. You said his name was Tannie! You have his number saved under Kim from psych!"

Jimin winced. "He’d told me way too much about himself, I messed up some details. Tannie’s his dog’s name."

“So, Taehyung is the eccentric fuckboy you sit next to, for an hour, three days a week."

"Yep."

“Oh, my God, this is fucked up,” you wailed, turning around to pace next to your bed, hands sifting through your open hair.

Jimin eyed the laptop on your bed. It suddenly came back to him – you’d seen Taehyung’s dick’s outline. You wanted to suck that abominable, STD infested, overused dick. 

Jimin really hated his life, right now.

“So, don’t do it,” he tried again, walking into your room with authority he didn’t have. “Please.”

You looked at him with a scowl, face pulled in around your scrunched up nose in the middle. “Stop saying that!"

“Why do you even wanna?” Jimin whined, sounding more than a little sulky as he stood in your way, prompting you to stop walking. “He’s, like, the most despicable fuckboy on campus!”

“Well, that’s exactly why! I don’t need his heart, I just need his dick!” you crudely told him, throwing both your arms up. “It helps that it comes with explosive reviews from the entire female population on campus. I’ve had a frustrating couple of weeks, and, ugh. I really don't have any energy or patience to go through trials and errors to finally find someone who won’t disappoint.”

Jimin was breathing heavily after you finished speaking. You were that desperate for a fuck? 

He dragged his heavy gaze over your body, bottom to top – you were barefoot with your toenails painted a gorgeous shade of royal blue, your bare calves were toned, slowly expanding into thighs that were—fuck. These thighs were ultimate ruiners of his sleep, God. 

Your hands were balled at your sides. The oversized t-shirt you wore ended mid-thighs on your body, wrapping over your hips that he now knew to be juicy as fuck, and proceeded to tent at your breasts where your nipples were still fully erect and intending to cut through cloth. 

The neck of the t-shirt was wide enough to let your collarbones be on complete display. Jimin held in a groan of want, pulling his lower lip in as he followed the smooth line of your long neck all the way up to your face. Your lips were redder than he was used to. You were wearing lipstick, he realised with a start, mouth falling open in surprise. Your eyes were lined with something, too, making them sharper than usual.

You were dressed to seduce, and he was trapped under your spell.

You looked good enough to eat.

What wouldn’t he give to be able to toss you onto this very bed and fuck the living daylights out of you…

“I can’t believe that fucker really told you,” your mumble suddenly brought him out of his lewd musings, and he adjusted his legs to be covert about his hardening length. 

“Isn’t it typical of him? What else did you expect?” Jimin shrugged. “He also very nearly circulated the first nude you sent him to half the college campus. He literally bullied me into seeing it.”

Your face suddenly colored. “You… you saw my pictures?” you asked him in a small voice.

Jimin noticed how you focussed on the latter part of the sentence, and not the—evidently more concerning—former. Interesting. 

“Just the first one.” His voice came out hoarse, throat suddenly very dry at the memory. “And then the last one, briefly. I recognized your tattoo…” 

His eyes travelled down to your waist of their own accord, images and scenes running wild in his head. Those hips. Those delicious fucking hips were right here, within his reach. And they belonged to you — the girl of his fantasies of over a year.

Jimin exhaled brokenly, trying to calm himself down.

“Why are you stopping me?” you asked him in a mumble, sitting down on your bed. “I’m not trying to marry him, just hop on his dick for some gratification. I’m even gonna block his number after.”

He looked back up at your face, only to draw in a sharp breath. Your eyes were so so dark. His own probably mirrored yours.

He couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I…could possibly have an offer for an alternative. A better, less emotionally damaging and certainly more STD-proof alternative.” 

Your lips quirked to the side. You leant back on the bed, supporting your weight on your palms, and crossed your legs.

Jimin’s gaze immediately zeroed in on your smooth thighs, and the desire to bury his face between them nearly incinerated him from within.

“Is that so?” Your voice had turned breathy. “Better alternative, huh? Got any testimonials to back it up?”

Holy fuck, were you really responding to his flirting? 

“Not really,” Jimin murmured. And even though he did have a slew of ex partners that could vouch for his sexual prowess, he just wasn’t the kind of guy to brag so brazenly about all that. He licked his lips, taking a tentative step closer to you as he came up with a more tantalising offer. “You could sample it.”

Lust flooded your gaze, making it darker than he’d ever seen it in his life. Even if your words from yesterday morning had, apparently, not meant what he’d hoped for them to, this, right here – the naked want on your face, told him a whole different story. It felt unreal, and he wasn’t certain this wasn’t just a fever dream. But if it was a fever dream, he was gonna make it one hell of a memorable one.

When your hands nimbly reached out to wordlessly shut your laptop, moved closer to you, leaning a bit to catch your gaze.

“Would you like to?” he mumbled, softly.

Your breath stuttered out in response.

“Taehyung promised me he’d choke me on his cock,” you told him so abruptly, he almost gasped out loud.

But then Jimin clenched his jaw and walked even closer. He stepped between your legs and slid a hand into your hair, cupping your head with his fingers and massaging the skin behind your ear with his thumb. “Is that something you want, baby?” he breathed out, relishing the way your eyelashes fluttered at his touch. Or maybe his words, he wasn’t sure. “Hmm?”

Your tongue licked at your bottom lip, dragging a salacious path against the plump flesh until the red matte lipstick was glossy with your saliva. Jimin wanted to suck on it until it was red without the makeup’s tint, too. 

“What do you think, Park?”

Something about the way you spoke his surname in a challenging tone had him going rock hard in his pants. He wanted to ruin you.

“Oh, I think you do,” he whispered, tugging your head up to straighten your body from its recline. 

Your chin came to the same level as his belt. His whole body shuddered when you accidentally brushed against it. 

“And I’ll make you choke on it, alright,” he continued, “after which I’ll make you clench on it, make you drench it with your juices. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll choke you without it, too.”

Your irises were twin black disks as you stared into his eyes with your breath bated. “Shit, Park, I…” You shook your head, pulling your lower lip into your mouth. “You’re so fucking hot,” you moaned, eyes sliding shut, and brought both your palms up to bunch into his t-shirt.

A small smirk slid up Jimin’s face. “Is that so?” he murmured, thrilled by the look of torture on your face when your brows scrunched up. “Well, sweetheart, you happen to be the sexiest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though I’ve acquired evidence to support my claim very recently, I’ve told you this multiple times before,” he mumbled, mouth watering at the sight of you nibbling on your lip. 

Your heavy lidded eyes met his as you slowly opened them again. “You have, but… never with this look in your eyes.” Your breath hitched, one of your hands leaving his shirt to wander the length of his torso, lingering near the end of his abs. He held back a shiver. “Like you want to rip my clothes off and devour me whole, this very moment.”

Jimin’s nostrils flared, teeth grinding even harder. Oh, how he wanted that. How he wanted exactly that.

“Oh, sweetheart, I do intend to do that and more. Lay you bare beneath me, touch every single inch of your body. And then let my tongue follow.”

You made a small sound from the back of your throat and Jimin very nearly came in his pants. “What’s the hold up, then? All I hear are promises, Park. Where’s the delive—”

With a growl, Jimin tightened his grip on the back of your neck and pulled your face in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, effectively shutting you up and fulfilling your demand at the same time.

The first contact was, very poetically, electric. Current zapped through his body, beginning where your soft lips had molded against his in acceptance, and reaching all the way down to his semi-erect length. Which was now starting to painfully strain against his too tight jeans. 

Your mouth opened up to him, and he swallowed your moan of want when his tongue brushed against yours. He poured all his pent up feelings and desires into the kiss, pressing harder against you when you pliantly tilted your head back to give him more room. 

Jimin couldn’t fathom he was kissing you. Finally, fucking finally, after more than a year of lusting for these lips — he finally had them entwined with his own. He lost his mind somewhere in between the soft pull of your even softer lips, harsh nips of your teeth, smooth glides of your tongue. 

And then he grabbed a handful of your hips, and went feral. 

With a grunt, Jimin opened his mouth wider, licking into yours between harshly sucking on your tongue. It was a mess — sloppy and wet and desperate when he explored your mouth with full fervor, tongue curling against the inner seams of your lips. 

Your hand slid over his waist, leaving fire in its wake as it slid past his t-shirt to trace the tight muscles of his abdomen. Jimin brought his other hand to rest next to you on the bed, now leaning over you.

His lungs were protesting for air, but he just couldn’t get enough of your taste. It was you that finally pulled away, panting heavily into his mouth. 

Jimin blinked, struggling to come out of the daze you’d put him in. He looked at your parted lips, hunger building up in him when he saw the smudges of your lipstick around them. Your wide eyes gazed up at him with so much naked lust, holy fuck. He so very desperately wanted you naked. 

“You want this?” he asked you, testing his own restraint when his length ached from being confined for so long in its rock hard state.

You looked too delirious to respond, nodding very slowly with your eyes nearly glazing over as your gaze lowered to look at his crotch.

“Say the words, sweetheart. This is about consent, I’m not trying to force you into something you’re hesitant about,” Jimin unnecessarily clarified, well aware of how both of your bodies were vibrating with need.

“Jimin, for God’s sake, stop talking and fuck me,” you gritted out, grabbing hold of his t-shirt and tugging at it until he was raising himself off the bed to get rid of it.

Tossing it aside, he raked a hand through his hair and peered down at you. Your mouth hung open, eyes seeming to drink him up. 

Well, good for you, because he was losing his sanity with every passing second that he was spending close to you but not close enough. 

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he mumbled before moving to unbuckle his belt and quickly unbutton his jeans in succession. 

He stopped there, though, and caught hold of your hand when you tried to reach for his waistband. He shook his head when your eyes shot to his. 

“Your turn.”

He saw your throat move on a gulp. You skittered back on the bed, rising up on your knees when you’d reached the center. He followed you, placing a knee on your bed to get to you.

Your fingers trembled as they reached for the hem of your t-shirt, with suppressed want or nervousness, Jimin couldn't tell. He was a mixture of both.

He watched, breathing completely ceased, as the t-shirt rose and unleashed more and more of your smooth skin. When you raised it above your waist, he sucked in a large breath, eyes widened, jaw dropped open and body nearly quivering with want.

Your hips.

Your juicy fucking hips.

They were right there, calling out to him with their hourglass curve as they tapered into your trim waist with a soft abdomen. You wore a tiny, burgundy scrap of lace as a substitute for underwear, and he recalled it to be the thong he’d barely caught a glimpse of in the picture of your ass. 

Your breasts bounced free, next, and Jimin moved his throat in a thick swallow, a palm cupping over his crotch. Your nipples were pebbled and juicy, and he just wanted to wrap his lips around them and suck to his heart’s content.

He shuffled forward on the bed when you got to your shoulders, helping you untangle your arms and hair from the piece of clothing.

Once the t-shirt was fully off, you looked at him with a bashful smile. “Why’re you gawking like that? You’ve seen it all before,” you mumbled, sitting back on your haunches, your own gaze rounding back to his torso.

“Pictures don’t hold a light for the real deal, holy fuck,” he managed to choke out.

Your coy smile turned challenging. “How do you know? You haven’t even touched, yet.”

The nerve of you to—

Jimin pounced, knocking you back into the mattress as he covered your body with his, making sure to press every inch of himself on you.

Your wide eyes looked at him in surprise but more than a little hunger, and oh did he want to take care of that.

One of his forearms dug into the bed next to your head while his other hand gripped at your shoulder. He hissed against your lips when your curves molded against him. 

“You’re so fucking insufferable but so fucking delectable, fuck,” he gasped, unable to resist when his eyes fell onto your quivering lips, and kissed you again.

You moaned loudly into his mouth, not in the least bit shy about devouring his lips as messily as he did yours. Your tongue curled against his, making his insides turn to molten lava. He could feel your nipples against his chest and, his palm slid down your side, curving along your breast as it spanned down to—

Oh.

His palm met your hip and he was lost.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, digging his fingers in.

Your dark eyes looked back at him, shuttered, sensuous and perfectly fitting for the goddess that you were.

“Do you know how fucking long I've fantasized about having this body of yours under me, you minx?” he grumbled, sliding down your body.

His mouth latched onto your neck, both hands curving around your waist as he pressed kisses down the column of your throat. Your head fell back with a moan, granting him more access, and he took advantage of it, running his mouth up to your jaw, his tongue licking at your skin.

Your skin was so soft and smooth – even more than it looked.

He grazed his teeth against your jaw, pulling back to look at you.

Your eyes were shut, brows pinched, and mouth was hanging open in abandon. He leaned over your face to pull your bottom lip into his mouth. Giving it a hard suckle, he let go with a pop. 

Your eyes fluttered open, looking at him with an intoxicated look on your face. “Jimin…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His fingers dug into your waist.

“Touch me,” you whimpered, throat convulsing.

Jimin grinned. “I am.”

His palms slid down your sides, and as he met the curve of your hips again, his previous plans of teasing you flew out the window.

Holy fucking hell.

“These fucking hips,” he grit out, digging his fingers into the meaty flesh. “They’ve been driving me insane, do you know?”

You really did have the sexiest body he had ever seen. A perfect figure with enough chubbiness in places to make you feel soft, womanly and real. His eyes were caught by your abdomen and he leant down to press a kiss beneath your navel before he could think too much about it.

“You’re so soft and so delicious…”

You released a muted gasp in response, but he was too busy exploring the curve of your waist. His fingers ran over your smooth skin, nails scratching lightly. You jumped when he went a little rougher, and he gripped you harder, leaning down again, this time to suck open mouthed kisses over your waist, all the way from your navel to the dip in your side.

“Fuck, Jimin—” 

You broke off on a gasp when his tongue met your skin, tracing wet paths, absorbing the taste to his memories. He groaned into your stomach, dragging his face over the flimsy waistband of your underwear. He moved to the side to tug at the string at your hip with his teeth, licking underneath it, and then dug his teeth into the delicious flesh beneath.

A moan slipped past his own lips, nearly drowning the stream of gasping sounds coming from you. He had his mouth on these goddess-like hips.

Finally, fucking finally.

“Jimin, Jimin, fuck—”

He tasted his fill, leaving kisses, and nipping, biting and licking you up as he desired. The delicate waistband of your thong was haphazardly pulled every which way, only barely covering your center as Jimin went about devouring you.

Your breathing was labored, chest heaving and shoulders twitching when he finally managed to pull himself off your body. He looked at you from under his brows. You had an arm folded over your forehead and the other hand fisted in your pillow. You already looked fucked out and he’d barely even done anything.

Pressing a hand down on your abdomen, he pulled your attention to him.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated and everything. Your lips were well-bitten, swollen and red. So fucking delicous.

He slid his palm up your torso, curving around your breast. You visibly trembled when he gave the rounded flesh a squeeze. Jimin loved the sight, moving his thumb to flick at your nipple.

“Jimin,” you breathed, hand moving from the pillow to grip at his wrist.

Jimin clicked his tongue, removing your hand. “Ah ah, no,” he murmured, voice deeper, loaded with arousal. 

You mutely looked at him, eyes wide and irises nearly wholly eclipsed by your pupils.

He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, placing your arm above your head with the other one. He held both your wrists in his hand and tugged, causing your breasts to jiggle invitingly. Barely containing the wanton moan that swelled up in his throat at the sight, Jimin flicked your nipple again.

“These hands,” Jimin murmured, face lowered to your throat as he leant over you, “stay here. You move them, we stop. Understood?”

He dipped his head to lick at a sweat droplet collected between your collarbones. Your breath stuttered out and he saw you swallow.

Jimin drew back when he didn’t hear you respond. 

You were panting, now, lower lip extended way past your jaw as you looked at him with your eyes rounded.

He raised an eyebrow. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

You gasped aloud, as if suddenly inhaling a lot of air after having stopped breathing for a few seconds. Maybe you had, you looked very much on the edge. 

Your head jerked in a nod, fingers of both hands gingerly clasping together above your head. 

“I’m gonna need your words, baby,” he prompted you in a low murmur. “And I better not have to repeat myself.”

You shut your mouth with a click, eyes widening just a tad bit. “I… yes,” you whispered, voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Yes, I understand.”

Jimin nodded, lowering his mouth to sweep his tongue over your neglected nipple before engulfing it whole. “Good,” he spoke into your skin, relishing the taste of you.

“Uh, Chim?” 

Jimin caught apprehension beneath your breathiness. He immediately pulled his head up to look into your eyes. “Yes, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“I…” You nodded. 

But then you were biting your lip again and Jimin couldn’t believe how fucking lucky he was to have you looking so submissive beneath him. All his dreams – coming to an unimaginably amazing conclusion. 

He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure this wasn’t a fever dream. 

You cleared your throat, jutting your chin out in an obviously faux show of confidence. “I don’t have to call you, like… master, or something, do I?”

Despite the instant tightening in his pants, Jimin couldn't hold back the laugh that tumbled out of him. He threw his head back and guffawed. Yeah, this was definitely real.

You slapped him on the thigh. “Shut up!”

He collected himself with difficulty. “No master, sweetheart. Just my name would be fine.”

“Well, you’re into some kinky shit, Park, I was just making sure.” You crossed your hands against your chest, pouting crossly. “Could’ve said a simple no, though. Didn’t have to laugh like that, you meanie.”

He was still grinning even as he gripped both your wrists and pulled your arms up to pin them next to your head. Your pout slipped away, lips falling open on a gasp. He leant over your body, pressing his chest against yours, smirking when your lashes fluttered.

You felt delicious, all sweet and soft curves pressed up against his planes.

“You hit me.”

You blinked, frowning. “Wha—”

“You hit me. On the thigh.”

Your eyes went wide in alarm and Jimin chuckled at the horror on your face. “I’m — I’m sorry, Jimin, I—”

He slid higher up your body, grinding his denim covered crotch into you. “Are you?”

You choked on an inhale, moaning with your mouth closed when Jimin moved his hips again. Your tongue peeked out to lick at your lips while you gave him a nod. 

“Yes, Jimin,” you whispered, eyes looking away from him as you demurely lowered them.

Jimin hissed. Why did every single, little action of yours make him lose all control over himself? He sighed.

He looked up at your hands struggling in his grip, and then around the room. And then he looked down at himself, eyes pausing at his waist. He quickly unlooped his belt from his jeans.

“Jimin, what—oh.”

He pulled your wrists up to the bars in the headboard and glanced at your face. “This okay? Use your words.”

Your cheeks were red when you nodded. “Yes. Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good.” He looped his belt through the bars and, binding your wrists together, tightened the buckle. “This good?”

You nodded.

He quickly dipped his head to nip at your collarbone. “Words.”

“Y—yes, yes, Jimin. This is – it’s good,” you brokenly breathed. 

Jimin nodded his approval, patting your cheek affectionately.

Then he descended your body and got to work on your breasts, weighing them in his palms as his thumb flicked both their tips. Your body twitched beneath him, little whimpers egging him on, you looking at him with your sultry gaze. He moved a hand to close his forefinger and thumb over a nipple, tugging the flesh and giving it a jerk. Your breast jiggled, and you both groaned in unison.

“Look at you, sweetheart, God,” Jimin groaned, one hand mapping the surface of your abdomen to rest below your navel. He tugged at your nipple with his other hand, again. “These are pure sin.”

His mouth closed over the other nipple.

“Jimin—ah…” 

Jimin hummed contently, swirling his tongue around the nipple before dragging his lips off of it. He immediately moved on to the other side, bringing his other hand back up to cup over your breast. He squeezed at the soft flesh while his teeth grazed against the sensitive tip, and you mewled beneath him.

He had his mouth wrapped around the gorgeous, perky nipples he’d seen in your picture, yesterday, and wanted to taste. Life really didn't get better than this, did it?

He looked up at your face to find your lip locked between your teeth and eyes screwed shut. He bit down, sinking his teeth into the supple flesh of your tit.

Your eyes sprang open with a gasp, neck immediately craning to look at him. 

He met your gaze with a wink, lapping at your skin with his tongue. 

“Chim…”

Your moan was loud and deep, vibrating through your chest to his mouth. Jimin suckled hungrily, hands grabbing at you greedily.

When he finally pulled away, he’d left a huge, blooming red mark on you and it was rapidly changing colors to turn purple. Jimin pressed a kiss against it.

His hands made their way down to the string of the waistband of your thong, index finger twisting the fabric. 

“This little piece of lace,” he mocked. “What good does it do, anyway?”

Your cheeks were flaming when he met your eyes. “I…”

“It’s so fragile,” Jimin whispered in a breathless urgency, moving to plant a kiss in the middle of said piece of clothing, over the wet patch he could clearly spot. “Bet I could tear it off with a single finger.”

He heard your breath hitch as he gave the waistband another twist, wrapping it over the knuckle of his index finger now. He tucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes ravenously drinking up the sight of you peeking past the tiny triangle of your thong. 

And then he snapped the damn thing, tearing it into two and pulling it off your body.

“Chim!” your gasp was instant, back arching in an attempt to rise but you were held back by your tied hands.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he mumbled, but he wasn’t actually in a condition to listen to you, right now.

Not when he had you spread out, pink and swollen and pretty in front of him. He dropped the cloth off to the side, bringing in both his palms to part your legs even further. 

And your thighs. These fucking thighs with all their plumpness and the jiggle in them when you walked around in booty shorts, ugh.

“D’you know how crazy you’ve driven me with these?” 

He massaged the inside of your thighs and your body gyrated, hips shifting with your gasps.

“I was walking around with permanent boners because the sight of your legs drove me insane. All I could think about was wrapping these around my waist,” he husked, depraved eyes running over the smooth skin of your thighs before his palms followed, tracing a path from the underside of your knee, up to your hips, “and fucking you against the nearest wall.”

“Jimin,” you stuttered, eyes looking at him in what looked like wonder, your breathing seemingly ceased. 

Well, he would give you a reason to breathe. Gasp. Scream his name.

He dragged his hands up to the juncture of your thighs, spread them, and trained his eyes at your center. His reserve completely gave out when he found you slick and sopping wet, with your arousal painting the tops of your thighs. 

“So fucking messy,” he gritted, teeth clenching tight, “and much more dirtier than my filthiest fantasies.”

Jimin reached out with two fingers, parting your folds to expose you fully to his sight. 

“Ah, fuck. That’s – that feels cold…” you whispered, wide eyes roving his face.

Jimin realised his rings had made contact with you. He sucked in a breath at the sight of your slick rubbing over his silver bands.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, drowning in lust, mouth salivating. “You’re dripping everywhere, sweetheart, fuck. Look at you ruining my rings. So fucking pretty.”

His fingers slipped down your lips, brushing your clit and converging as they travelled lower yet. He watched with rapt attention, eyes wide and tongue resting against his upper teeth as his fingers slipped right into you, travelling deep into your gripping warmth.

A low sound left him just as you moaned out his name.

"All this for me, yeah?" He nipped at your thigh above your knee.

You nodded, your half lidded gaze on him. "All for you. Just for you."

He sucked in a huge breath, grunting when his fingers scissored up to the spot he was looking for inside of you. He experimentally curled his fingers, eyes darting up to look at your face. 

You jumped at the contact, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open. 

“There?” He watched your contorted face with rapt attention.

“Uh huh,” tumbled out of your mouth as you nodded frantically.

Having mercy on your mindless state, he let you get away without speaking up this one time. He wanted to touch you, taste you, consume you until you were sobbing in his arms. That, and he himself was too far gone to care, right now. 

He released your thigh from his other hand, sitting up on the bed and spreading his own knees for some relief while his fingers moved in you. Unzipping his jeans with his free hand, he tugged the fabric off his crotch, sighing when the tightness released. Then he moved the hand to hold you by your waist, your leg folding up between your bodies.

Jimin licked his lips, hair falling in his eyes and gaze never leaving your fucked out face. He gripped your calf, unfolding it and tossing it over his shoulder. Your eyes opened, looking straight at him past a hazy curtain. He gave you a grin, moving his head to press an open mouthed kiss against your ankle, and you jerked against him, biting down on your lip and squeezing your eyes shut again.

“S—so good, Jimin…” 

Jimin’s cheek ticked up in a smile, fingers moving in you faster.

You looked exquisite like this – spread in front of him like a platter, hands pulled up and tied off, breasts bouncing, back arching, hips moving to his rhythm, and pussy stuffed full with his fingers. He wanted to touch you, taste you, consume you until you were sobbing in his arms.

“You look so delectable, I wanna fucking eat you up whole,” he grunted, pressing his nose into your ankle to ground himself.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Drunk on your inebriating scent filling up the air between the two of you, Jimin lowered himself on the bed and launched himself onto you, tongue moving to lick at your clit.

“Oh m—Fuck! Jimin! Holy – shit!” 

Egged on by your yelps, Jimin attached his open mouth to you, letting his lips meet your wetness while his tongue rolled over your clit. Your taste was heady – an aphrodisiac if there was ever one. He could get drunk on this.

And he intended to.

“So fucking delicious, baby,” he spoke into you. “Could eat you out forever, mm hmm.”

“Jimin, Jimin, oh my God, fuck, Ji~min,” you chanted his name, tugging at your constraints and twisting your body every which way, but Jimin’s grip on your thigh held you in place.

He slurped at your leaking slit, pulling his fingers out of you to let his tongue take their place, massaging your entrance and dipping past it in small licks.

“Chim...please,” you groaned, craning your neck as far as you could to look at his head of dark hair working between your legs. “More.”

But Jimin was unrelenting, not letting up with his mellow teasing as he licked, kissed and nipped at your cunt without delivering what he knew you needed. His fingers, slick with your arousal, moved to hold your hips down from moving too much, smearing your abdomen with your own wetness.

The thought of licking your essence off those sinful hips made him lose what remained of his senses, and Jimin dove full in. He had you at his mercy with your hands out of service and hips in his vice like grasp, and you were well aware of the power he held if your desperate pleas were anything to go by.

He hummed against your clit, teeth raking against the soft flesh and you convulsed above him, begging for a whole different reason now. 

“Jimin! I’m close… please, baby…”

“Not yet, sweetness,” Jimin murmured into you. “Let me have a proper taste first.”

He flattened his tongue over your slit, licking a fat stripe up your cunt, and you yelled out a garbled curse, thighs quivering in his grasp. Then he dipped his tongue in again, licking into your heat while his nose bumped into the hood of your clit. Your high pitched yells of his name were gradually losing coherence, making him grin against you in satisfaction.

He decided to bring his fingers back in, sliding two of them into you again and massaging the spot they met when he curled them, while his lips closed over your clit in a tight suction. Your body quivered above him, drawn out groans of some contorted form of his name escaping you and echoing in the space around you two. 

“Don’t you dare come until I tell you to,” he spoke into you, voice coming out ragged and heavy and hungry.

Jimin furiously fucked you with his fingers, teeth coming in to play with your clit as he did, grunting at the squelching sounds it made. Your cunt seemed to be growing narrower by how hard you were clenching around him, he could tell you were getting closer. He uncurled his other hand from your thigh to rest on your abdomen, feeling the stickiness he’d left there before, and he gripped your waist to pull you further down onto his mouth and fingers. He messily ate you out, tongue licking every inch of your delicious softness and lips meshing into you before sucking at your clit, voraciously.

You whined aloud, and Jimin chuckled against you.

“All good, baby?” he hummed into you, and you broke into a litany of pleas.

“Jim...Jimin...I’m gom—gonna – please, I—ungh, please lemme come, pleathe…”

Jesus fucking Christ, he would lose his fucking mind.

He swore to himself, detaching his mouth from you long enough to rest the side of his head against your thigh and look at your face which was all screwed up in agony. He groaned at the sight, sponging a kiss to the inside of your thigh, fingers moving in you even more frenetically. 

“Come for me, baby.”

He immediately returned to your core and pressed even closer into you, flicking his tongue over your clit once before swirling it around in tight circles.

“Come all over my tongue, pretty, lemme drink you up.”

Your channel gripped his fingers even harder and your moans grew in pitch. Jimin immediately wrapped his lips around your little nub to suck as hard as he could.

Your reaction was instant, a scream of his name ripping from your throat and the heel of your leg hooked over his shoulder digging into his shoulder blade as your body drew taut.

“Ji—min, fuck fuck fuck. Fuck! Fuck—ah!” 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, squeezed so tight around them he wondered if he would even fit inside of you. But your juices had him forgetting about everything but your intoxicating taste, and he withdrew his fingers from you to seal his mouth over your entrance, lapping up every bit of your release. 

"Mm hmm, so pretty, so delicious, baby…"

“Chim… too much, ah…” your weak sob somehow penetrated the cloud of lust he was swimming in.

Very reluctantly, Jimin gave a single parting lick to your pussy, swiping his tongue from the very bottom to the very top, and moved to sit up between your spread legs. He brought his wet fingers up to his mouth, popping them in and licking off every trace of your heavenly taste from them.

He hadn’t realised when his eyes had closed in bliss, but your little gasp made him open them to meet yours. 

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he praised, brushing a kiss on the top of your knee with his lips still soaked in your essence. He sat back on his haunches and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, then. “Are you okay?”

Your gaze was heavy, lips red and parted as you stated at him. Then you scoffed a small laugh, lips pulling up in a  smile. 

"I’m – I’m more than okay, oh God. That was… so fucking good, Chim, your mouth is… fuck," you breathed out, still panting heavily. “You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. What the fuck, Park?!”

Jimin scoffed. You were calling him sexy? Had you seen yourself? Your breasts were heaving enticingly, sweat dotting various parts of your body, and Jimin really just wanted to lick your entire body clean. 

He brought a hand up to rake through his hair, abs and obliques flexing with his action. He noticed your eyes trace his torso. He grinned at you wickedly when you licked your lips. 

“See something you like?”

“Oh my God, Jimin, untie me,” you moaned, taking him by surprise. “Right now.”

He squinted at you. “What makes you think you’re in a position to give orders, here, sweetheart?”

"I really really need your cock in my mouth in the next ten seconds, or I might die," you announced with your wide eyes looking really serious and sort of panicked.

Jimin nearly swallowed his tongue, because damn did that filthy mouth of yours bypass his imagination. He had never been so hard in his life.

“Is that right?” He reined in his surprise and looked down his nose at you.

You squirmed under his gaze. “Yes, Chim. Please?”

“You could’ve asked nicely to start with, sweetness," he chastised, even as he moved to close your legs and straddle your waist to work the buckle of the belt. “Why run your mouth and risk being edged for an hour, hmm?"

Your movements froze for a moment, alarmed eyes connecting with his challenging ones. “Please don’t do that.”

Jimin gave a hearty laugh. “Ask nicely, then.”

He sat back on your thighs, leaving the belt still twisted up in your hands despite the buckle being undone. Waiting. 

He crossed his arms over his chest when you kept gaping at him. “Go on?”

You whined, turning your face to the side. “Come on, Jiminie, untie me! You deserve to have your soul sucked out of your cock, baby, please don’t deprive me. Please?”

His eyebrows shot up at your unexpected surrender. He’d expected you to protest more. Did you really want him in your mouth that bad? Oh, God.

“Are you trying to make me come in pants like a fucking teenager, what the hell?”

You pouted at him, eyes shining with mischief. “Someone said something about choking me with his cock. I’m just trying to get you to fulfill your promises, Park.”

Jimin smirked at you, lips parting and teeth peeking. He moved on top of you, nipping at the peak of your breast, the edge of your jaw, your earlobe – before feathering his lips over your ear. “I could do that with your hands tied, too, pretty,” he breathed. “Say the word.”

You choked on an inhale, chest frozen under him while he chuckled at you and sat back up.

“You’re sinful, Park Jimin,” you muttered, eyes shuttering in a playful glare.

Jimin tugged his belt off your hands and the bed frame, softly massaging your wrists while he slowly brought your arms down to rest on your abdomen.

“Looked in a mirror lately, Miss?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling your hands up to plant a soft kiss on the reddened skin of both your wrists. 

You bashfully ducked your head, rising to sit up with his help.

He slid back on the bed, slowly widening his stance to accomodate you between his legs. He wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you to him while he feathered the fingertips of the other hand over your thighs. 

Your hand came up to cup his jaw, eyes gazing at him with unabashed lust and what seemed like a little bit of admiration. He smirked in response, tilting his head to accept you when you leant forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He immediately moaned into your mouth as you took command, massaging his lips with yours. Your other hand travelled to the back of his head, gripping his hair as you moved his head in accordance to you. Your tongue didn’t waste time in coming out to trace his lips, and he relinquished all control when you slid forward to straddle his lap with a deep groan. 

He maneuvered the two of you around without breaking the kiss, and sat back against your headboard. He helped you wrap both your legs around his waist, one hand reaching up to massage your scalp while the other traveled down to palm your ass.

You fell against his chest, both palms landing on his body, and instead of gripping onto him to steady yourself the way he’d expected you to, your hands started to wander. One of them reached up to trace his pectoral muscles, fingers brushing his fevered skin until your thumb suddenly flicked against his nipple, making him grunt into your kiss.

Your lips formed a smirk, your other hand sliding down his abdomen to curve over the front of his jeans. Jimin nipped at your upper lip when you drew his bottom one into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue. 

Your palm curled over him above his boxers. Blood hummed in his veins, making him cry out into your mouth.

Jimin pulled away from the kiss, canting his head back onto the headboard to catch his breath. You did the same with your head rolling over your shoulder, provocative eyes looking at him like a predator’s while your fist tightened over his length. 

“Ready for the best suck of your life, Mister Park?” Your voice was breathy, borderline desperate, but your eyes held a spark of defiance.

Jimin bit his lip, very well aware of the jump in his cock at the address. He couldn’t believe how easily you changed forms from being a writhing, submitting mess underneath him to straight up messing with him. 

He loved it.

When your eyes left his cut, muscled V-line, you winked at him and crawled backward on the bed, getting off his lap. 

Jimin gave you a wolfish grin in return. “Hit me with your best shot, Miss,” he teased.

And you did.

Your hands immediately busied themselves in wrestling his underwear past his ass. He lifted himself up from the mattress to aid you in the process as you tugged at his jeans, tearing the piece of clothing down his legs as if it had personally offended you.

Jimin watched you in amusement while you hurriedly freed his legs off the jeans and then his boxers. His cock was rock hard, slapping his abdomen when it sprang free from the confines of his underwear. His tip was red, begging for attention, and it took everything in him to not grip himself and give a few satiating strokes. He had been doing that for months. Now that he had you sitting in front him, buck naked and eyeing his cock with yearning in your gaze, he wouldn’t miss any fraction of an opportunity to have your hands on him.

He gave a small chuckle when you grumbled between your struggles of freeing his ankles from his skinny jeans.

But then all humor was knocked out of him. 

You didn’t wait for a single second, not even pausing to breathe before wrapping a palm around him and descending over him with your mouth open wide and wet. Your lips wrapped around his tip and you gave his cock a loud, wet, slurpy suction before licking off the precum slathered around the slit.

Jimin’s hips bucked off the bed, hands scrambling to find purchase in your hair and the bedsheets. “Holy shit, babe!”

You looked at him through your lashes, all sultry and luscious, and dipped your chest further down towards the bed.

Jimin slowly followed the lithe line of your spine, all the way up to—

“Fuck…”

Your ass was raised up as you knelt between his legs and your mouth-watering hips fell in his direct line of sight. The navy blue and black butterfly moved in tandem with your head, taunting him.

This was quite possibly the most erotic sight he’d ever seen in his entire life. Better than his imagination.

While he was still recovering from the visual of his dreams, you removed your hand from his cock, and using your tongue to spread his precum and your spit all over him, you opened your mouth to take him all in.

A choked cough escaped him when his tip hit the back of your throat. 

“What—sweetheart, I—fuck,” he brokenly stuttered, confused between pleasure and concern, the hand in your hair trying to pull you off him. “Are you—ah, are you okay, babe?”

You moved your hand to squeeze at his thigh, and Jimin relaxed. You’d caught him off guard and so he wasn’t aware of how prepared you were. It would kill him if he accidentally hurt you. 

But going by the way your lips were moving over his cock in a tight vacuum seal, you’d been more than prepared for him.

Your mouth bobbed up and down in quick, shallow strokes. Not every stroke hit the back of your throat, but you had your tongue flattened over the underside of him and were licking at the really sensitive vein that ran beneath his skin with your every move. Jimin dragged his other hand through the bed, abdominal muscles flexing and twitching with every jerk of your head.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good. So warm, shit—”

He peeled open his involuntarily shut eyes with effort, looking down at the lewd sight of you.

Your cheeks were hollowed, and lips progressively growing a darker shade of red. Jimin belatedly recalled the lipstick you’d worn. Pride swelled in his chest on realising he’d probably wiped it all off with his own mouth.

“Look at you, fuck,” he grunted, chest heaving with short, quick breaths. “So fucking filthy. D’you know how often I have imagined this?”

The carnal sight of your lips stretching wide over him was nearly too much to handle. He sat up from his recline, one hand tightening in your hair and the other reaching across the span of your body to grope at your hips, squeezing the delicious flesh there before moving lower to give your plump ass a smack.

Your responding groan vibrated through his cock, and Jimin threw his head back with a muffled whine. “Shit, shit, shit—”

Your mouth slipped off him, hand coming to grip around his length. You swirled your tongue over his tip, rubbing it back and forth when his hips bucked, while your hand maintained a steady rhythm over the rest of him.

Jimin wheezed in heavy breaths, pulling his hand off your hip to shove his hair back from his sweaty forehead. 

His grip on your hair tightened. “What a dirty fucking girl… fuck… you look so good like this, baby.”

You looked up at him through your lashes at his praise, and he nearly fucking came. Oh God, you were so sexy.

But you recognised the delirious look in his eyes because you removed your hand from his thigh to grab his free hand and put it in your hair. Jimin swallowed a gasp. How were you able to ignite every single nerve ending of his with every little action of yours?

Jimin combed the fingers of both his hands through your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and held that in one hand. He tapped at your cheek with the other. “Pat my thigh when you need to tap out, okay? Don’t go over your limit.”

You nodded around a mouthful of his cock, and Jimin really fucking lost it for a second there. Remembering himself, he gathered his bearings, and tugged at your hair. You detached your mouth with a gasping whine, a thread of his precum hanging off your swollen lower lip and connecting to his dick.

He moaned at the sight, thumb moving to swipe against your lip. You caught it in your mouth, flicking your tongue against it the way you did on his dick, and Jimin’s breath caught.

You were nearly too much to handle. Nearly.

“Speak up, pretty,” he grunted, roughly pulling his thumb off you, replacing his hand to hold your chin.

You blinked at him with big, muddled eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he implored. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, I understand.” You licked your lips, eyes falling back to his length. “Won’t go over my limit. Just… fuck, Jimin, fuck my throat. Please. Need you, wanna feel you.”

Jimin didn’t need another summoning. Swearing under his breath, he gripped your face with both his hands and raised himself to his knees. You got to your hands and knees before him, cheek nudging his slit.

Your eyes were nearly glazed over, and if Jimin sat back to ponder the fact that you looked so freaking intoxicated by the prospect of having him fuck your mouth, this would be over way too soon. He breathed in deeply, instead, raking his eyes over your prone form and reminding himself of the thorough fucking you deserved for being so fucking unbelieavably receptive.

Tucking his lower lip between his teeth, Jimin directed your mouth towards his cock with a hand, sliding himself in with a grip on your hair, and your lax throat took him right in.

“Oh my God, fuck!”

Any and all thoughts left his brain – the feeling of your throat constricting around him the only thing in his world.

“You feel so incredible, baby, fuck—”

He wanted to hold back, really truly did, but the way you were suppressing your gag reflex and presenting yourself to him with such abandon had him going feral. With a muted growl, Jimin pulled himself out, tapping his tip against your deep red lips before driving deep again.

Your throat convulsed on him, teasing eyes telling him you’d done it on purpose, and he sputtered, mouth salivating and eyes rolling back.

“You dirty fucking minx,” he hissed, tugging at your hair to get your eyes back on his. “If you lose your voice because I fucked your mouth too hard, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

And then he was wild, ravenous, untamed – holding your face still as he rammed his length into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your scattered moans around him were making him lose his mind. He had no clue how long he would last like this, but he could not restrain himself.

He’d always had lengthy plans for you, if ever got you under him. All his fantasies comprised him tasting every single, supple inch of your body, bringing you so much pleasure that you passed out from his mouth alone and he had to wake you up to fuck you. But right now, it seemed like he was gonna nut down your throat and pass out himself before he got to dick you down.

That thought, and that thought alone, was what helped him grip onto his slipping control.

Slowing his tempo for a moment, Jimin clenched his abdomen, reeling his spiralling restraint back in before he thrust again, repeatedly meeting the back of your throat. Your mouth was so warm, oh God.

He could feel sweat accumulating over his brow, running down his back, gathering over his abs from exertion.

“So good to me, so fucking pretty,” he heaved between heavy breaths, feeling hs balls tighten when you hummed in response.

Three more thrusts and then Jimin paused, pulling your head away from him.

“Enough! Fuck, I don’t wanna come before I get inside of you.”

Your slacked jaw came off him, pupils completely blown out, no trace of your irises visible at first glance. Jimin sank back on his haunches, jerking you up to kneel with him.

Your eyes still hadn’t connected to his, chasing his length until your face started to descend again.

Your reddened lips, watery eyes and all the spit and precum dribbling down your chin was already too erotic of a sight for Jimin to resist. But the second he saw you trying to get your mouth back on his dick, he lost all semblances of lucidity.

“Fucking hell, come here, you—”

Jimin grabbed your whole face in his hands and closed his open mouth over your delicate lips. He tasted traces of himself on your tongue, salty and wholly unpleasant, but the obscene sight he just saw was painted on the back of his eyelids and he growled low in his throat before sucking on your lips harder.

He let go of you when your hand tapped against his chest. 

“Need to… breathe…”

Jimin chuckled, letting go of you. “You okay, pretty?”

Your eyes were shut, palms resting on his thighs as your chest heaved. You swiped your hair over your shoulder, nodding. 

Your eyes opened to connect straight with his, your palms moving up his thighs. “I wanna ride you.” You licked your lips when he raised an eyebrow. “Please? Will you – will you let me ride you?”

Jimin swallowed, breath faltering. What a fucking sex goddess. And how good at learning and retaining instructions.

Inwardly, he wanted to moan out a depraved agreement and let you ride him into eternity, because God knew he would spontaneously combust if he wasn’t inside of you soon. But he also needed to pound you into your bed really bad. So on the outside, he looked at you with his head tilted back and thighs spread, deciding to entertain you for a while.

Taking in his inviting stance, you didn’t waste time climbing into his lap. He licked a path up the soft, delicious skin of your throat while you wound your arms around his shoulders. His palms flattened over your thighs, fingers digging into your delectable flesh.

“These thighs have been ruining my nights ever since I saw them,” he breathed into your neck, lips ghosting over the side of it. “Couldn’t sleep because the thoughts of having them wrap around my waist won’t fucking leave me.”

He relished the tremble that overcame your body, and moved his hand to palm your ass. His gaze dropped to your hips where multiple red spots had started to bloom as a result of his feasting. God, he needed a picture of this.

“And these hips.” He hissed out a breath. “Look at how pretty they look all marked up.”

Said hips undulated over his thigh, coating his skin with your arousal. Your own thigh made contact with his stiff length and he groaned. Jimin ground his teeth together, hips jerking upwards to engage in more friction.

A loud moan left you, head rolling back over your shoulders. Jimin didn’t waste a single second before catching one of your nipples in his mouth, grip tightening on your thighs. Your moan bled out into a breathy whimper, and Jimin sucked harder, pulling you down on himself harsher.

“Stop,” you breathed out, a shaky hand coming up to rest over his chest. “Get—get inside me already, God, please, Jimin! I need you in me so bad.”

Jimin pulled you up in a flash, teeth nibbling his own lower lip as he nudged your nose with his own. Staring deep into your eyes that were thickly layered with arousal, he slowly shook his head. Your eyebrows dipped in confusion. He licked at your lower lip, holding you tighter when you shivered.

“You can have your fun riding me, later, sweetness,” he told you, voice coming out breathless and scratchy. “Right now, I really need to fuck you into this bed, really hard.”

He winked at your dropped jaw before grasping you by your waist and flipping the two of you over. He absorbed your gasp of surprise in his mouth, taking you into a bruising kiss. His hands moved to clutch at you, one at the waist and the other gripping your thigh as he situated himself between your legs. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, grabbing your tit when your back arched up to him.

His length was hard and angry and even a feathery brush against your thigh had him groaning into your mouth.

Separating from your ambrosiac lips, he brought a hand up to cup your face. “Condoms. D’you have condoms, sweetheart?”

You blinked up at him, nodding as you pointed to your right. 

“Still no words, huh?” Jimin mumbled in admonition even as he turned his head to follow the general direction to your nightstand. 

Immediately leaning over, he pulled at the drawer and reached in. His fingers brushed against a couple of tiny packages, and he plucked one out.

“Handy, huh,” he remarked, raising a suggestive eyebrow at you, relishing the way your cheeks pinked.

He dropped the packet on your chest. 

“Help me?”

He smirked when you gulped, running a finger down the line of your throat, all the way down to your sternum, in the middle of the soft mounds of your breasts.

Looking into his eyes, you took the packet up to your lips and bit into a corner. Jimin sucked in a sharp breath when you tore it open with your teeth, the harsh foil pressing into your lips and skewing them crudely.

You rolled the condom on him with smooth swipes of your fingers over his length, and Jimin held back a shudder when you pumped him twice after you were done.

“There,” you breathed, breath audibly hitching when Jimin pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

His eyes connected with yours, one hand wrapping around your right thigh to tug it over his waist, and the other brushing over your center. He hissed when his fingers came in contact with your slick.

“You’re soaking wet, pretty baby.” His voice came out hoarse and lower than his usual pitch.

He dipped his fingers in to ensure you really were properly aroused, and he had to bite back a groan when you clenched over his digits.

“Such a greedy baby. Gripping my fingers even when she’s about to get my dick,” he sneered, pulling his finger out harshly and rubbing your wetness over his length. “Look at me when I fuck you, okay?”

“Y—es, okay.” You bit your lip, shaking underneath him. “Need you, Jimin. So so bad. Please – just, plea—oh!”

You cut off in a gasp when Jimin aligned himself with your entrance, pushing into you slowly. He looked up to find your eyes shut.

“I asked you to look at me!” he growled, glaring at you when your eyes opened. “Eyes. On me. The entire time. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded, and he brought up his hand wet with your arousal to grip at your jaw. 

“How many times,” he hissed, “do I have to remind you to speak the fuck up?”

With that, he slid into you in one strong, smooth motion, bottoming out through your slippery channel. You both groaned together, and Jimin’s head fell onto your clavicle. He drew his hips back and thrust back in, shallowly. 

“God, you fit me like a fucking glove, baby.”

Pressing kisses into your collarbones, he bit down when you still just moaned in response.

“I still don’t hear your words,” he grunted against your throat.

And yet, all he got from you were little gasps, in time with his slowly moving hips. The hand supporting your thigh separated from your skin, only to reconnect with a resounding slap.

“Speak up.”

You jumped, moaning with your mouth open. “I—I’m sorry – fuck – I’m sorry, Jimin, it just feels so good, baby—ah! I… I under—ah! I understand! I’ll look at you…”

He lifted himself up on his forearms to check whether you really did, and hummed in satisfaction to find your eyes on him. 

“Now, was that so difficult?”

He rose to his knees, cradling both your legs around his waist as he drew back and thrust in again. Your warmth enveloped him so well, he had to clamp up all his muscles to maintain his composure.

“How are you so fucking tight, sweetheart, fuck. Squeezing me so fucking good when I just fucked you open with my fingers,” he groaned, driving his hips against yours.

Your heavenly thighs framing him was literally a dream come true and he found himself groaning at the sight of your flesh pressed up against his. Your breasts swayed in time with his thrusts, tempting him to take them into his mouth. So he did, prompting you to lock your ankles at the small of his back as he grabbed at your tits. 

A lewd moan tore through your chest. “Fuck! Yes!”

Jimin picked up pace, gleaming eyes stuck on the tantalizing way your soft flesh bulges through his fingers.

"What a fucking sight, baby, fuck."

He removed one hand to press it down over your chest, looking into your barely open eyes. He snapped his hips against yours harder, grinding them when he was balls deep, and you stuttered out a broken rendition of his name.

Jimin's gaze went up to your arms that you'd crossed above your head, away and out of the way. 

"What an obedient little baby, ugh," he grunted, leaning over you to lock an appreciative palm over your wrists. "Definitely deserving of a reward for this."

Your breathing grew heavier, gasps melting into little whines at the end.

Jimin licked at your nipple with the flat of his tongue, rolling it over the areola before moving up to suck bruises into your neck. 

"Jimin, I—ah! Tha–thank you!" you sobbed.

He hadn't really been expecting you to respond this time, given how delirious you looked, but appreciated it all the same. Appreciated it way too much, in fact because he felt himself throb inside of you.

The hand he’d pressed down on your chest slipped over your collarbones, moving up. It wrapped around the base of your neck, his fingers and thumb pressing into either side as he squeezed a little. Your eyes widened, slowly, irises thinning even further with more arousal bleeding into your orbs.

“You like that?” he rasped, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your lashes nearly fluttered, but you fought against shutting your eyes and never broke eye contact. “Y–yes, Jimin, it’s s–s–so goo—”

You sputtered into a muted groan under the suddenly increased pressure of Jimin’s fingers. He gripped your thigh firmly with his other hand, pushing it up against your chest and leaning over you to pound into you at a deeper angle.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, hands gripping onto the headboard. “Ji—min, fuck, fuck, fff—ungh!”

Jimin’s hand tightened over your throat, now cutting off some of your air supply and speech abilities. Your muted groans, incoherent yells, his own breathy pants and the wet, smacking sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your room. 

He reached up to grip at the headrest, hand closing over one of your own, and fucked you harder, shaking the bed dangerously under the two of you. Your entire body shifted against the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your little shrieks and yelps coordinating with his movements. 

Your gaze was completely unfocussed. Jimin could tell you weren’t actually looking at him even when your eyes stayed on his face. But he was looking at you. Oh, God, he was definitely looking. And saving every single inch of your gloriously fucked out self to his memory to revisit for the rest of his fucking life. He wished he could save the way you felt around him to his memory, too, because God knew he’d never felt anything like this before.

He told you as much, grips tightening over your hand around the headboard bar and your throat. You eagerly nodded back, whether in reciprocation to his sentiment or to egg him on, he didn’t know. But he went harder all the same, pulling your other leg over his shoulder, too.

“Min!” you suddenly gasped nearly unintelligibly. His eyebrows furrowed. “I–I’m—”

“Are you close, pretty?” Jimin asked, dropping a wet kiss against your lips when you nodded. “You wanna come, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nodded again, trying to say something else but making zero sense. Jimin choked you harder, making it impossible for you to even try to speak.

His eyes dropped to the place you were joined at, and he watched, transfixed, as your sopping cunt repeatedly swallowed his length. He groaned. “You’re taking me so amazingly, baby, fuck. This tiny pussy spreads so well for me…”

He let go of your throat to reach between your bodies to place his thumb on your clit, a giggle escaping him when it slipped.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, shit. Can’t even touch you properly…”

He brought his index finger together with his thumb to pinch at your clit.

“Ahhh! Fu~ck! Jimin!”

He smirked at your rough yelps, immediately grumbling a curse when you clenched around him. “You’re so responsive, baby, shit. What an amazing girl. So good to me.”

Your eyelids fluttered at his praise, hips moving against him to meet him thrust for thrust.

“B–baby—so close—” 

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes slitted, but still fixed on him. “Ye–ye—ngh—yes—”

“You’re such a good girl, pretty,” he cooed, letting go of the headboard to grab one of your thighs for leverage, hips pistoning into you at an unforgivable pace. “Deserve to be,” he panted, “fucked so good, you—” he broke off, catching his breath “—you pass out, sweet baby…”

A high pitched moan tore through your chest, knuckles turning white in your tight grip at the headboard, and Jimin massaged your clit with two fingers. 

“Come for me, baby. Squeeze my cock, cream all over it, fuck, come on, pretty,” he grumbled, biting his lip at the visual, and ran his nose along the line of your throat.

Your breath was coming in gasps and hiccups and Jimin could feel you gripping his length harder. He breathed out against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste you before rising up again to look into your feverish eyes. Your nose flared with every broken inhale and breasts pushed up against his chest with every frantic jolt of your body against the headboard.

Jimin could die like this with zero complaints.

“Oh—oh, I’m gonna—Chim, baby, I’m–I’m gonna come, I—” 

Your eyes finally broke contact with him, abruptly clenching shut. Your back arched and body froze for a second, and then your walls clenched him so fucking tight and you—

“Jimin, holy fu~ck-k-k-k!” 

“Shit shit, you’re so tight, baby, you’ll make me—”

Your pussy spasmed around him, tightening like a vice before easing until it tightened again, and it was all Jimin could do to not profess his undying love to your cunt.

You screamed, stuttering through your words, barely even sounding like yourself, and Jimin continued to furiously drive his cock into you, his tip meeting a spot deep within you and pulling him closer and closer to his own release. Jimin watched with a gaping mouth as you fell back against the bed, his restraint fully undone.

Your eyes opened to meet his own, and arms lowered from their position. Jimin let your thighs off his shoulders, to wrap them around his waist. You hummed, face relaxed and limbs loose. Jimin dipped his head to devour your lips, letting go with a resounding smack when breathing became a trouble.

“Can I touch you?” you then murmured, voice hoarse and worn out, and he felt himself throb a little harder at the knowledge that he’d done this to you.

“Yes—ah, fuck—yes, sweetheart. Yes, you can touch me."

You shakily lowered your palms to his pectoral muscles, and Jimin hissed at the touch of your cold hands against his heated flesh. Your fingers fluttered over his nipples, the softness you eluded in contrast with the ruthless pace he was going at inside you. Jimin grunted when you scraped a nail over one of them. Then you suddenly pinched both of them between your finger and thumb and twisted at the same time, and a groan of pleasure was pulled out of him in between his gasps of exertion.

You were exhausted, though, and so your hands quickly left his chest to wrap around his torso, arms looping beneath his upper arms to grab onto his shoulders. Your lashes fluttered up at him, parted lips shiny with spit now quirking in an open mouthed smirk just as you dug your nails in, and fucking raked them down his back.

"Fu~ck, oh my God!" Jimin gasped loudly, eyes widening at your mischievous expressions.

He was gonna fucking explode without preamble. Letting you touch him was a bad idea.

One of your hands situated itself on the small of his back and the other reached up to wrap around the base of his neck. All your nails scratched at his damp skin, your eyes sparkling when Jimin’s hips faltered in their movement in response.

“You like that, baby?” you whispered in a husk, ankles locking behind his back to pull him further in, and Jimin toppled on top of you with an oomph, chest meshing into your breasts and face falling onto the bed, next to yours.

He growled, scowling when your giggles trickled into his ear.

"You fucking tease, you’re—"

He pulled out of you, and dropping both your legs off his waist, gripped your hands in one of his to tug them up. Grabbing you by your waist, he rose to his knees again and flipped you over beneath him, your yelp of surprise muffled by the pillow your face sank in.

He let go of your hands and waist, sat back on his haunches, and placed both his palms on the gorgeously delicious flare of your hips to drag your ass up. In a second, he slid home, hitting you even deeper at this angle.

The two of you moaned, and Jimin gripped your hips tight to begin a brutal pace, pounding into your weeping cunt with renewed vigour. 

"Jimin! Fuck!”

Your shout was followed by you stumbling to rise on your palms, failing and landing on your elbows. He laughed menacingly, smirking at your breathless moans. 

“Yes, pretty, hold yourself up like that. My pretty girl… So hardworking, so good. Yeah.”

“Yes… yes, oh my God, Jimin—ie,” you moaned, turning your face to the side so that he could see your gaping mouth, “love it, baby—”

"Yeah, baby," he panted, feeling himself lose coherence at the overwhelming carnality of this position, "I love it, too."

And he did.

The erotic sight before him was straight out of his wildest fantasies. 

Your hips, those delicious hips he'd fallen in love with, unknowingly, were held tight in his grasp. Your thighs framed his own, meeting him with lewd slaps with every thrust. The butterfly tattoo between the dimples above your ass seemed to flap its wings with every roll of your ass over his dick, and Jimin had to bite back a moan at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling with the same motion.

He delivered a smack on one, palming the tender flesh immediately. You shouted his name, head stretched far back and back arching.

Jimin cursed under his breath, letting go of your ass to wind his arms around you. He gripped at your breast, rolling a nipple under his thumb until you mewled in protest, and then slid his palm down your stomach to run his fingers around your stuffed pussy.

“Gonna come for me again?”

You violently shook your head. “No! No, Chim, I can’t, I’m—I’m too sensiti—ah!”

Jimin twirled a finger around your swollen clit, licking his lips. “Yes, you can, pretty, and you will.”

His finger worked in rhythm with his cock, slipping over your sensitive nub just as his balls slapped against your pussy.

“Jimin, too much…” you groaned, elbows giving out.

“Shh, just a little more. My pretty baby will give me another one.”

He wrapped an arm around your hips to hold you up, dipping to plant a kiss between your shoulder blades. Soon enough, your groans of protest were turning into gasps of pleasure. Jimin chuckled against your shoulder, licking a path up the back of your neck.

“Does it feel good now, baby?”

You nodded against your pillow. “So good!”

Jimin fucked into you with renewed conviction, ignoring the cramping in his forearm as he rubbed your clit, this time chasing his own high that he could feel hovering close by.

And then your walls were fluttering around him for the second time just as you sobbed curses into your mattress. Jimin’s brain went haywire at the sensations, hand falling off your clit to grip at your shoulder, his chest pressing up against your back.

“Baby,” he groaned into your neck, “I’m gonna come.”

Your breath hitched, hips making some sorry efforts to push back against him, but the coil beneath his navel tightened all the same. Topped by the sensation of your still spasming cunt, Jimin’s head swam, eyes clenching shut as the coil grew taut with tension and then— 

“Fuck fuck fuck, baby, fuuuu~ck—”

The tension in his abdomen snapped, every single nerve ending in his body lighting up as he came, literally exploding with a shout of your name. Tremors overtook his body and his cock twitched, ropes of his release filling up the condom just as his brain blanked out, all sensations leaving him in the wake of the overwhelming ecstasy of his orgasm. White noise filling his ears, he collapsed on top of your body when his knees gave out.

Heavy breathing filled the room for extended minutes.

And then you coughed beneath him, an elbow nudging at his ribs.

“Chim… heavy… can’t breathe…”

He floated back to the world of living with lazy blinks of his eyes, belatedly chuckling when your words registered in his brain. With a heavy sigh, he pulled his softening dick out of you and heaved himself off you to fall on his back on the bed, next to you. His hands still lifeless, he made an effort to roll the condom off himself and tie it up. He peered over the edge of the bed to look for a dustbin, extending an arm to toss the soiled condom in it when he spotted it under your bed.

Once he had comfortably situated himself back in his lying position, he gazed at your nearly lifeless form. You were still lying on your stomach with your head turned towards him, your eyes closed and mouth parted. Jimin could tell you weren’t asleep though, despite the soft rising and falling of your back.

The reality of the situation suddenly hit him like a truck.

He fucked you.

He fucked you – his crush of over a year, the muse of his every lustful pining, the lead actress of his every sexual fantasy, his roommate, and, as of late, also the other girl he had started to lust over.

He fucked you – and you let him. Enjoyed yourself quite a bit too, as far as he could tell.

He finally fulfilled his dream of over a year, holy shit, and it was so fucking good! Better than his expectations!

You suddenly cleared your throat, and Jimin blinked away his mental fistpump.

Your eyes were now open and trained on him. He couldn’t help his answering smirk, rolling onto his side to face you, a hand coming up to rest on the curve of your hips that he had finally had the opportunity to claim. Your cheeks reddened at his action, and his smirk widened a bit.

“So…” he began, biting down on his bottom lip.

“So…?”

He laughed at how awkward you were being.

“So that was fucking fantastic, sweetheart, you’re a sex goddess,” he finished with a roll of his eyes, still chuckling when you scrunched your nose up.

“It most certainly was, Chim,” you mumbled, humming with a smile. 

You slowly turned over your side, too, to face him properly. His eyes automatically fell to the globes of your breasts, his smile turning sheepish when you flicked his forehead. 

“And you’re a sex god yourself, if we’re really gonna get into it.”

Jimin just smiled at you, too sated and comfortable to stir up anymore conversation, content by just watching the post-orgasmic flush on your face.

You cleared your throat again, gazing away from him. Jimin laughed. 

“You can look at me, I don’t mind.”

You snorted. “Of course you don’t, you cocky bastard.”

Jimin quirked an eyebrow when you met his eyes again. “Well, I sure am cocky, ain’t I?”

You gasped in outrage, smacking a palm against his chest which he caught in his own to hold in place. Your face turned serious, gaze dropping to his lips, and he sidled closer to you to brush his nose against yours. 

“Chim,” you breathed, rubbing your lips against his, and he responded with a stuttered hum. “Can we… um. Are we gonna do this again?”

He reared away from you in surprise. “Uh…”

Your face fell, eyebrows furrowing, and you sat up, turning away from him. “I—I was just, um… offering? I guess? We totally don’t have to, I—”

Jimiin cut you off with an arm curled around your abdomen. “Come here, you idiot.”

You turned to look at him with wide eyes, and he sat up to face you, sliding close enough to press his chest against your side, consciously not letting his eyes stray beneath your face. 

“I was taken aback because I assumed that this would be a regular thing, by default, babe,” he honestly confessed. “I mean, I'm gonna admit… I’ve slept around a lot. More than I should’ve, probably. But the fire you light in me? Yeah, I’ve never felt that before. And now that I have felt it up close, I wanna feel more of it.”

You were shyly biting down on your bottom lip by the time he finished talking, and Jimin couldn’t fathom how you changed into this irresistibly demure girl under his praise when you were a sassy, sexually over-expressive individual on the normal. Not to say he minded, because he liked it. A lot.

“And I’ve kinda wanted to do this with you for a while now, please don’t kill me,” he admitted in a single breath, looking at you with apprehension until your wide eyes reassured him that you weren’t offended.

“I kinda figured that one out already. You talked about having imagined a lot,” you reminded him, and he gave you an unabashed shrug, somewhat surprised you’d retained his passionate confessions.

But then you had him freezing.

“And you’re good, Park. I’d be a hypocrite to kill you when it’s been kinda the same for me,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders. “Minus, of course, the sleeping around more than I shou—”

“Wait, wait – what?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said it’s the same for you—what?”  

You squinted at him, huffing out a small, incredulous chuckle. “You seriously don’t have a clue, do you?”

Jimin squinted back. “Clue? About what?”

You looked at him with a torn expression slowly spreading over your face. “I didn’t really plan on bringing this up directly. Ever, if it didn’t come to it. But… guess you’re more oblivious than I thought.”

Jimin thickly swallowed, kind of able to guess where you were headed with this and unable to believe it was happening.

“Well… I had this gigantic crush on you when I moved in,” you mumbled, pulling both your lips into your mouth.

Jimin stopped breathing. You really—?

“What?”

You winced. “I know, I know, it was horrible. But, come on, Park. You’ve looked in a mirror. You know you’re a fucking catch. The first few weeks with you were torture. I’d seen you shirtless a couple of times, and… my mind wasn’t ready to forget that.”

Jimin was sure he was dreaming, at this point. The mindblowing sex had really been a fever dream. He subtly pitched himself, jolting when it hurt. 

No, he wasn’t dreaming.

Fuck. Fuck yes! What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, babe?” he mumbled, sounding breathy even to his own ears.

“I – I tried to give you subtle signs, planning to come on to you when I was sure you were reciprocating. Because, as I got to know you, I realized that the attraction wasn’t worth sacrificing our friendship for, and so I didn’t approach you directly.”

Jimin sucked in a harsh breath, shocked at how perfectly your side of the story aligned with his. 

“Well, obviously your subtle hints were way too subtle,” he murmured, a little annoyed at fate.

You shot him a glare. “Jimin. Are you serious? I gave up the sorority to live with you!”

Jimin gaped at you, caging you in his arms to put his face next to yours. He narrowed his eyes. “No. You got rejected because you failed an exam and—”

“Oh, my God, Chim! Are you really that naive?” You rolled your eyes with a self-conscious laugh, but something akin to adoration shone on your face. “All those eligibility rules are just on paper! Srats and frats don’t actually reject people that harshly.” You brushed a kiss against his lips, and his breath stuttered. “Besides, I didn’t actually fail that exam, Park.”

Jimin pulled back from you with a loud gasp. “What? Oh, my God—babe! How the hell was I supposed to figure that one out?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, alright, that was a tough one. But what about all those tales of my escapades I forced you to listen to? Did you think I was some sort of a closet exhibitionist or something?”

Jimin’s cheeks warmed. He sat back again, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, I don’t kink shame.”

You laughed aloud at that, shaking your head. “I just kept hoping, day after day, for that one fine moment when your resolve would weaken and you’d react. Maybe pull me in for a kiss? Or, at the very least, show me a sign that you were bothered by those talks? But no! You just sat back like a darn wingman, and never showed any interest. The only crack I saw was last night, and even then you didn’t revolt over me talking about sucking a random guy’s dick! You didn’t even try to ask who the guy was!”

Jimin shook his head. “It was very difficult, on all occasions but especially last night, I assure you. But I didn’t wanna come off as a pervert and have you run out of the house.”

“That would never have happened.” You bit your lip. “Gosh. We could’ve really been doing this a year ago!”

“Damn. That’s a lot of wasted time, shit.” Jimin exhaled, still reeling. It suddenly came back to him. “Was the Taehyung thing meant to rile me up, too, or…?”

Guilt spread on your face, cheeks flushing. You shook your head and Jimin gaped at you.

“That was pretty real, I’m afraid. I—hey, don’t give me that look! I was pretty frustrated, okay? You weren’t budging from being a good friend, I was getting kinda desperate here.”

Jimin still scowled at you. “You sent him nudes, ma’am. The biggest fuckboy on the entire campus has your nudes. And he obviously doesn’t have any qualms sharing them with people; exhibit a – me.”

You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. “Well, they don’t have my face, so…”

“And thank God for that! Or I’d have to hack into the fucker’s phone to burn them out of existence!”

A teasing smile crawled up your face. “Look at you getting all protective and shit after having sex once, huh?”

Jimin stiffened, worried he’d overstepped. Your eyes widened, too, and you hurried to shake your head.

“Not – not in that sense! I’m not proposing a relationship—” You cut yourself off with a wince. “I mean, not yet—” You cut yourself off again when his eyes widened, before giving up. “You know what? I’m just gonna shut up.”

Jimin shook with silent laughter. You huffed, petulantly, grabbing your t-shirt from the edge of the bed to toss it over your body.

“Hey, listen,” Jimin called out, pulling both your hands in his, “let me help you sort things out?” At your timid nod, he smiled. “I liked what we did. A lot. And I’d like to do more of it. A lot more of it. We good so far?”

You chuckled, looking away from him. “Yes.”

“Great. Next, I think it’s too soon to be jumping into a relationship. But I may be open to it in future,” he tentatively continued, eyes stuck to yours.

You exhaled at his words, face flooding with what looked like relief. You gave him a nod. “Yes. Yes, that. Exactly that.”

“So, we’re on the same page then?”

“The same sentence, too.”

Jimin felt his own inhibitions lower at your enthusiastic tug at his hands. This didn’t feel awkward, at all. This felt good.

So good. Wow.

Your gaze dropped to his crotch, surprising him. But instead of feeling self-conscious, he felt like teasing you.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “The same sentence, you say? Is it, perhaps, a question that begins with ‘what about’ and ends with ‘a second round’?”

Your cheeks puffed out in an attempt to contain your laughter. “It does, as a matter of fact. Followed by an all-caps ‘yes’, and an asterixed clause saying ‘I get to be on top, this time’.”

Jimin broke down into fits of uncontrollable laughter, falling into your lap, and you followed suit, tilting to a side on the bed.

God. You were the same level of crack-headed as him. This was gonna go so well, fuck. He couldn’t wait.

Jimin glanced at the clock on your nightstand when you were both sufficiently calmed, turning to grin at you. “It’s been over an hour since you were due for your video call. Taehyung must be losing his mind.”

Your brows arched in surprise. “Oh, I completely forgot about that!”

Jimin licked his lips, pulling you over his lap. “Uh huh. That’s really good to know.”

You eyed his lips. “I’m just gonna block him. He won’t even miss me. Bet he’ll get over it in a day.”

“I support that action.”

Going by the way he’d drooled over you, it might take the guy longer than a day. But Jimin was positive it won’t be longer than a week.

“So, about that asterixed clause,” Jimin began in a murmur, pressing a kiss to your jaw. 

“Yes?” you responded with your eyes gleaming in excitement.

Jimin bit his lip. “I support that action, too.”

With a squeal, you rushed to pull your t-shirt off, and Jimin would’ve laughed at your enthusiasm if he wasn’t moaning at the sight of your sexy body that he really couldn’t get enough of.

The next time Jimin saw Taehyung was for the psych class on Monday.

True to character, he was already drooling over someone else. And dude was so lost exploring the slew of nudes he received to pick out a candidate to spend the night with, that he didn't even notice Jimin’s own barely concealed groans as he looked at the Snaps you’d sent him.

“Park, man, I think I’m in love.”

Jimin blinked away from the picture of your pussy glimpsing past the new thong you’d bought, with a ‘what sentence we on today?’ written over it, and hurriedly locked his phone. Taehyung was longingly staring at his own phone screen when he turned to face the guy.

“You’re what?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “Gosh, man, that fucking ass—ugh!”

Jimin rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re in love with her ass?” 

“His. His ass. Says his name’s Yeon Kimin. Weird, but I ain’t tryna marry him. But dude, those pasty fucking globes—oh my God…”

Jimin smoothly tuned the guy’s lustful musings out to focus on his phone. Unlocking it, he discreetly placed it beneath the table to open Snapchat and click a picture of himself with his lower lip tucked between his teeth and an eyebrow raised. He quickly typed a ‘we replacing that thong with these lips, obv’ over it and hit send.

You typed back a response, this time, a blue bubble appearing in his notifications. 

not just a roomie👅 storage room behind the photo studio in ten PLEASE

Save the begging for later, sweetheart ;) Meet you in 5

Jimin locked his phone and picked up his bag to slink out of the classroom, smirking at Taehyung’s raised eyebrows. The guy sent back a dirtier smirk, mouthing ‘get it, soldier’ with a wink and a thumbs up.

God, what a guy.

Jimin ran out with a skip in his steps, full of excitement and energy, now that his nights were actually full of sleep and not visions of you. They didn’t have to be, when his days were already full of the real you, did they?

Nope.

I don't wanna take you nowhere; I don't wanna waste your time. Baby girl, won't you come my way? Baby girl, won't you come for me~

taglist: @shrimpmsg @jimidol @lorenakaspersen @lonleycoffee @trillradiance @loeyprivvv @sweeneyblue1​@ownthesunshine​ @dxlbts @dxlbts​ @dreamsindreamss​ @writtenwhalienreads​ @codeinebelle​ @chimchoom @chimchoom​ @brit97​ @seggsymccnugget (couldn’t tag ’cause the blog is blank!)

© jimilter | 2021

[valenhell]

From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites. 

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict.  - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no. 

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending. 

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic. 

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet. 

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will. 

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes. 

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers. 

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings. 

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it. 

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not. 

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised. 

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute. 

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable. 

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it. 

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay. 

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it. 

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

[bomberqueen17]

belated update! Lion, Sable, Passant, now with a delicious creamy white wolf filling

OK so it’s a shortish chapter:

Chapter 2, on AO3!

 but that’s because the rest doesn’t have a good spot to break, and is going to run quite long. so i thought, oh, i’ll break at the scene end there. and then i was like, well that means it’s done, so i can put it out for last week’s update.

for this coming week-- well, we shall see. but.

also i thought the sooner i can update the more widely i can spread the word of those amazing comics. Fuck. Singlehandedly saving my February.

(Well. I mean. Also y’all are the lights of my life, too, but. You know. February. It’s terrible.)

This is, in honor of the season, an astonishingly light-hearted, sort of sweet chapter, despite Roche nearly getting eaten by ghouls.

“You,” Geralt said, staring at him.

“Whatever else may or may not be true about Luisa--” Roche began, and Geralt put his spoon down and leaned forward.

“She started a civil war against Foltest,” the witcher said patiently, as if Roche might not know that.

“I’m aware,” Roche said, as dryly as he possibly could. “She’s an ambitious, deceitful woman. But she loves her daughter, and she’s a good mother. Moreover, if she has what she wants, which is her child on the throne, then all of her malice and deceit and cunning will be used on our behalf rather than against us. Since we also want her daughter on the throne, it seemed to me far better to have her present, free, and effective, than to have to either imprison or kill her, and then explain whichever of those we choose to her daughter, who I might remind you watched her father die violently not all that long ago, and is a nine-year-old girl.”

The witcher contemplated that, his yellow eyes moving over Roche thoughtfully as he gnawed on the bread un-soaked. His teeth, Roche knew, were unusually sharp, and there was a time that knowledge might have unnerved him. But he’d known Geralt long enough, now, that mostly it just seemed normal and expected.

“That probably is the best thing for Anaïs,” Geralt conceded.

[chuckbass-love]

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used: 

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out💕

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it. 

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer. 

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough. 

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

------------------------

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you. 

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you. 

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore. 

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger. 

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real. 

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

---------------------------------

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[bastillia]

Loyalties Lie

AO3 Mirror

Summary: You're a bartender in a Lothal cantina, living a quiet life in the Outer Rim after the fall of the Empire. You can't help but wonder what more might be out there for you. One dangerous guest in particular keeps catching your eye. Unfortunately, you've also caught his.

Rating: E

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: possibly mild dubcon, threats with a weapon, rough sex, verbal degradation, mentions of alcohol, cumplay, Boba Fett has a 24oz monster can dick and he knows how to use it.

A/N: Remember when I said I had a Boba Fett WIP laying around like, months ago? Well guess who showed up in Mando S2 with a sexy dad bod and the fattest dick in the galaxy to overhaul my dreams and make them a reality. Fuck me. Yes this is the first thing I’ve written in months hi I’m still here. No I don’t know how many chapters this will be. I live in hell. Welcome. Thank you to @kylorengarbagedump​ for graciously beta reading and listening to me literally scream about this man all the time. Love y’all so much PLEASE ENJOY.

**

It’s the kind of night that hums. 

Like a moonlit Lothal prairie, quiet and alive somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Except that in here, the crickets swoop past your bar to buy shots, and the stars fall steadily to become the lovely tink of credits in your tip jar. The twin moons are shifting hues of neon light, and time seems to stroll by, like it has nowhere better to be.

Tonight has been steady. 

It’s not busy enough tonight to challenge you, but not slow enough to let you rest. Your guard is up, as it always is when you’re behind the bar. But your hold on it can afford to be loose. 

Tonight has been…

Boring. 

No brawls, no assassinations, not even a drunken paw fumbling across the bar towards your tits, attached to some overly rowdy patron who you then get to watch with quiet glee as they’re dragged out by the ears. No, in fact, it’s hard to remember the last time something remotely interesting happened around here. So much for the Outer Rim’s rugged reputation. You hate to say you miss the Empire’s occupation from time to time. But at least it brought nightly intrigue.

Tonight, your guests are especially calm and happy, lulled by liquor and the easy flow of conversation, murmurs blending like a stream through the grassland. And you suppose you shouldn’t complain. You’ve more than earned your keep for the night, and then some. Best of all, your boss has no reason to be breathing down your neck. 

In fact, he’s happy, too, you note when the Lasat’s bellowing business-laugh resounds overtop a few flutes of spotchka, glowing inside a booth across the room. You pass a cloth around the rim of a clean glass, feeling a tickle of interest as to who he might be schmoozing this time. When you glance up, you can just make out a pair of well-dressed Rodians seated across from him through the leisure-thick air of the cantina, nudging each other and laughing at whatever witty, schmoozy thing he just said. 

A soft snort puffs through your nose. At least Dakk is a predictable man, if nothing else. Must be rich folk, probably well connected. Good. You’ll get no help tonight, but at least he will be occupied for a while.

In fact...

Flicking a quick glance around the room, you take your chance and shrug your outer tunic off your shoulders, quickly smoothing down your much more revealing undershirt until it clings to the shape of you. You know Dakk hates when you do this, always goes on about keeping the place “classy.” But he’s not looking, and if it puts a few extra credits in your jar by the end of the night, it’s worth it. Anyway, you’re in a good mood tonight. Bored nonetheless, and the combination always forges a mischievous kind of boldness in you; a tiny spark that glows just bright enough to cast the idea of consequence in shadow.

You scan the bar for an empty drink, a flirtatious urge rolling off of your freshly bared skin and filling your ribs with air. It’s not long before you hone on your target-- an unsuspecting guest sitting alone, head turned away. Probably eavesdropping. A smirk curves your lips and you sidle over, plink a glass down between you, leaning your elbows on the bartop. 

“Something else for you, sugar?”

His head whips around with a guilty swiftness, but you just offer an easy smile, shifting your weight through your hips to coax his eyes down your body. It works like a charm.

“I, uh...“ The young Mirialan stammers directly at your tits. “Yeah, c-can I, ah…” 

As you wait out his struggle, an idea sparks in your freshly emboldened mind. Maker’s sake, might as well help the poor thing out. 

“Got a ruge liqueur in stock, last shipment off Alderaan. Rare these days.” Your lashes flutter, tongue just barely playing your along your lower lip as if teasing some unspoken promise. “I just couldn’t help but notice, you seem like a person of exceptional taste.”

The words are warm summer air on your tongue, practiced and enticing. You can see them go to the kid’s head like spice smoke, his cheeks immediately flushing deep emerald beneath diamond-shaped tattoos. 

“Y-yeah?” He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly. “I mean...yeah! I, uh, I am. That s-sounds great, yeah. Um. Please.”

You smile. Too easy. 

Now, it’s not technically a lie. You do have the ruge in stock, it’s just that--well, it’s definitely nothing this kid can afford. But you’d bet a week’s worth of tips that you can slip him a cheap offworld varietal instead. Charge him triple its price, pocket the excess. Poor thing wouldn’t know the real stuff if it bit him.

You swell with the thought. That amount might even let you buy something nice for yourself for once. It might be a little slimy, but... fuck it. Kid seems well off enough. Decently nice clothes, cologne, that misplaced air of belonging that comes with sheltered entitlement. Surely he won’t miss a few extra credits. Anyway, you deserve this, right?

Moving to speak again, you prepare to lay the flirting on thick, really sell the gambit. But before you get the chance, a loud bang snaps your attention upward just in time to see the cantina door slam open. 

You straighten where you stand, irritation and curiosity pricking your ears in equal measure. But then a slight hush cuts the ease of your buzzing meadow, and your chest squeezes with it.

Boba Fett.

The hunter takes up almost the whole doorway, a broad tower of matte green beskar catching the soft neons of the cantina. The distinctly cold gaze of the Mandalorian helmet scans the room, stirring murmurs and averting eyes until it comes to rest, finally, upon you.

It feels like two cold weights set down on your shoulders, being the focus of that stare. 

Even as the energy picks back up around you, as conversations cautiously resume, it’s like you’re trapped in it, breathless under its weight and unable to look away. You vaguely register the Mirialan turn back to your tits and ask them something about when your shift ends. But you’re still transfixed, watching the armored man take a few deliberate steps towards the bar and straddle a stool, the visor trained like a crosshair upon you as his forearms settle on the bartop.

You’ve seen him here before. Heard his name whispered in weighted ripples ever since news spread through the Outer Rim that Bib Fortuna was dead. Since then, he’s come through maybe once every few dozen cycles, each time with a couple new chips in the paint of his armor. He comes here on business--or at least you assume that’s what it must be, since he always meets someone, speaks in hushed tones enshrouded by the dim corner booth in the back. He’ll toss a few credits on the bar when he leaves, but has never uttered a word to you, never ordered a drink.

Never even glanced your way, for all you know. Until right now. 

You swallow. Fucking hell, if there’s anything you’re used to, it’s being looked at. So why is this gaze kicking your pulse up into the base of your throat, making you feel exposed? A prickle of heat is already settling in your cheeks.

And then the visor cocks, and just barely tilts down the length of your figure. 

A tight breath snaps into your lungs, and your eyes dart to the bartop, across the room, back to the Mirialan still babbling dumbly at you, your face now hot. Kriff, what is wrong with you? Since when are you outright flustered by some stranger copping an eyeful? You try to breathe, ignoring how the hairs stand on your neck.

But you can still feel his attention like the heat of a sun warming your bare shoulder, and it makes something start to coil in your belly and glow there.

“I’ll have that ruge right up, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you interrupt the kid, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just calls out a stammered thank-you as you pivot away towards your new guest, your heart kicking against your sternum. Your feet almost feel weighted to the floor, and by the time you reach him, your pulse has an edge like a blade. 

“Something I can interest you in?” 

There’s a breathlessness to the warm air of your voice now, and you pray to the Maker that it doesn’t betray you. You lean against the bar, hoping that the solidity of the wood will somehow teach your nerves to follow its example. It doesn’t. 

He seems to study you for a moment, motionless. And then his shoulders shift, his elbows widen, and he leans in towards you.

“Information.” His voice is low and direct, barely above a graveled whisper, the single accent-laden word dragging through your belly and sparking like metal on stone.

Fuck.

Of course he’s after the one thing you’re not willing to sell.

Your heart stalls while your mind starts to race, eyes searching the dark visor. Of course you’d be a fool to deny him, and he knows it. That’s why he’s asking you. Why would you risk rousing a scene in your own bar, especially when the night is so mercifully calm? Easier to give him what he wants. Tap into your collection of liquor-loosened secrets, and knowledge of the local crowd.

The thing is, you’ve built a good rapport for your discretion. You think. Not to mention the number of cutting warnings Dakk has laid on you about the consequences for selling secrets in his bar. Is it really worth risking? Fett intimidates you, no doubt. But he’s also banking on the assumption that you won’t make this difficult for him. He has to be. And now unease and excitement are starting to play a game of catch between your ribs with that tiny, dangerous spark of boldness.

“Fresh out.” Your fingers drum the wood beneath them, trying to ground your reflexes through the rush of adrenaline that accompanies your words. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you stare into the blackness of the visor as you let the tiniest, playful smirk flit over your face.  “Perhaps something to drink?”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Boba Fett settles back on the bar stool. Unease lances you, splintering with the immediate question of whether you just made the right choice. You don’t want to think about how many he’d manage to kill before you could even blink, if he decided to do something extreme. His hand starts to shift back along his thigh, drawing a path towards the blaster at his hip. You swallow, panic pricking your neck.

Just as your muscles are primed to dive behind the bar, convinced you’re going to have to evade his quickdraw, his palm just takes a lazy rest on the hilt. The helmet levels, and then leans slowly to the side. 

“No.” 

Dizzied, you blink. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking through that helmet, and he’s offered you all of two words. But was that… amusement, you heard? No. Anger? Fuck, now you’re really imagining things.

Still a little breathless, you straighten, sensing that you’re dismissed. The thought of flirting with a killer was a much-needed rush, but you need to take his indifference as a mercy after that little stunt and get on with your job while he’s giving you the chance. What little you apparently have left of a survival instinct is at least telling you that much.

You shrug. 

“Suit yourself.”

It feels dangerous to take your eyes off of him. But you force yourself to do so anyways, turning your back on the hunter and making your way to the dim doorway at the end of the bar, his attention still heating your spine. 

It’s a fucking relief to slip through the door to the storage room, ease the door shut behind you, and for the first time in what feels like moons, you let a long breath fill your lungs. The familiar scent of dust and wine-aged wood floods you, and something like disappointment tugs at your heart.

Maybe that stupid, adventure-craving side of your imagination took things too far, fueled by your boredom and the prospect of something exciting finally happening. You suppose you projected that naive hope onto Boba Fett, if nothing else just because he’s the first person to come through here in a long time that actually intrigues you. That confounds your prized, finely-calibrated radar for reading people without having to speak a word to them.

Fuck, he really wouldn’t give you much more than a word, would he? Guess he’s determined to keep scrambling your sensors. It shouldn’t deject you as much as it does. But...  come on, the least the son of a mudscuffer could do is flirt back if he was gonna fucking undress you with his eyes like that. 

Or maybe that was just your imagination, too. 

You sigh, scanning a shelf on the back wall for a ruge that will make a convincing enough dupe. A synthetic varietal, perhaps. No--too cheap. You’ve got something from a Naboo vineyard in here somewhere. Anyways, whatever, since when are you desperate for any man’s attention?

No, okay, it’s... you know that isn’t what this is really about. 

It would just be nice to feel important, is all. Like the secrets you’ve gathered might be worth something. Could someday give you a place in something bigger. Or at least like anything about you might be worth more than equivalent to a shot of shitty spotchka. 

Forget it. As if that will ever happen.

Your finger absently traces the dusty label of a bottle, and then a soft clink of metal behind you freezes your blood. 

You whip around to meet a wall of beskar, inches from your face.

You start to scream, but the sound catches in your throat when a big hand seizes you by the back of the neck and wrenches you around, bending you at the hips and slamming you chest-down against the stale wood of a storage crate. Cold metal presses your thighs and your heart smacks your ribs, your body completely trapped under Boba Fett’s mass in one motion. 

“I said I need information, little one, and you’re going to give it to me.” His voice scrapes over your body, sliding through the dim room like the shadow from a candle flame. You quail beneath him, brain racing with shock.

“I d-don’t—ugh!” The weight of his forearm comes down between your shoulder blades, pressing breathy little grunts from your lungs as you squirm. “I don’t sell out my customers.”

You freeze when the distinct click of a blaster registers right at your temple. 

“Never said I was buying.”

Panic zips down your spine, your chest heaving against the wooden crate as heat slams your core. Somewhere, your rational brain is scrambling to parse the threat, but something about the sheer filth and danger of it is setting your whole body on fire, making far more primal nerves come alive. Trying to shake the feeling, you squirm.

“At lea--ngh, least nothing’s changed there.”

Fucking hell, what are you doing? Besides sassing the known murderer with a blaster currently trained at your head, alone in a dark room. Yet somehow that very fact is making arousal bloom so wicked and fast that you can already start to feel your cunt throb against the fabric of his pants. 

“Willing to die to protect a few spineless slime crawlers who don’t even know your name?” Boba rocks his weight against you, powerful and lazy in the way he simply leans into his hips, grinds them up hard against your ass to keep you flattened over the edge of the crate. “Boss man lines his pockets while his good little pet works for scraps.” Air feels more scarce to your lungs by the second. “Interesting, how your loyalties lie.”

Indignance flares up your spine.

“I w-ouldn’t expect you to understand.” You try to put venom in the words, but it’s difficult between your breathlessness and the sheer eroticism of this position you’re in. “Small price to pay, f-for a good life.”

Through your annoyance, you can’t help feeling a twinge of enjoyment at his solidity, at how you can just discern the outline of him through his pants. An excited thrum of your pulse snaps to your core like a fuse.

Above you, Boba Fett chuckles.

“Is that what he gives you?” There’s a mockery to his tone that heats your blood, and you start to squirm in defiance before remembering the blaster at your temple. Fett simply crushes you harder, drawing your attention back to his crotch. “Seems to me like you’re the mouse in his attic.”

“I suppose you’re better than him? Than any of them?” you immediately bite, not wanting to acknowledge the truth behind his words. Instead, you grab that spark of bravery and crank the voltage until it drowns your doubt, throwing your caution to the stars faster than punching an airlock in hyperspace. “Do you even know m-my name, Mando?” A tiny giggle ripples your chest. “I know yours.”

“Might be the last one you know,” Boba growls, but you’re becoming fixated on his cock now, the way you could swear that it’s growing more distinct by the second.

Fear and pleasure wrack your brain, the combination intensifying so deliciously with the pressure of his groin against your ass that you can hardly think straight any more. In a moment of sick indulgence, you arch your back and shift just slightly, wanting to feel that pressure against something now pulsing and sensitive. 

The grip on your neck locks tight, and your breath stops. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, princess.” 

He kicks your legs apart and crushes his hardening bulge against your pussy. And, fuck, you moan. You don’t even mean to, but the thrill of helplessness has you so mindlessly turned on that you can’t stop the noise from squeezing out of your throat.

“Filthy little thing you are.” 

There’s a shift in his tone now. The vice hold disappears from your nape just before your pants are wrenched unceremoniously over your ass and down to mid thigh. You gasp at the feeling of air brushing your bare lips. He takes a moment, and you think he must be looking at you. Heat blossoms from your face all the way down to your chest, and then he’s against you again, a palm coming down between your shoulders as coarse fabric presses flush with your cunt. 

You can really feel the outline of his cock now, hard enough to rival his armor but warm and thick against you, and you whimper. It’s only a click that snaps your awareness back to the weapon pointed at your head. 

“Let’s try this again, little mouse.” Boba’s voice comes lower and airier through the vocoder now in a way that blazes right through you. “You give me what I want, and perhaps you’ll inspire my generosity.”

In emphasis of his intent, he rocks his erection against the cleft of your pussy. Your eyes snap wide, an almost painful stab of arousal making you immediately whine louder than you intend to. “Fuck--oh, please!”

“Careful.” His hand slides up your neck, angling your face so that he can see it twist in shame and pleasure. “Wouldn’t want anyone finding you like this.”

Your cheeks blaze. Shallow breaths stutter in your lungs as his thumb tugs the pillow of your lower lip. And then he releases you, his hand moving back somewhere you can’t sense. The pressure against your ass shifts for a moment, just before the wide, hot shaft of his bare cock caresses your cunt.

“Last night there was a man here, Mon Cala, middle aged.” Your body is on fire as he speaks, the skin to skin contact dousing your brain in blind want. You grit your teeth, screw your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on what he’s saying while your pussy twinges around nothing. “He talked to the owner here, then he met with someone. Tell me who.”

A reluctant whimper leaves your lips, and the noise might just be one of the most pathetic you’ve ever made as your tongue still stubbornly refuses to slip. But Fett’s words ring again through your head with a resentful pang: the mouse in his attic. Is that what you’ll die as?

At your temple, the blaster’s safety disengages.

“Fuck! Okay, okay.” Your breath comes heavily, brain uncertain and lust-addled, fumbling for the details. “He um. Met a--mmh, a woman, I d-didn’t catch her name. Please--” Your voice trails off in a soft whine, your hips shifting back, trying to find the means to swallow his cock where it teases your tender core, entice him with the diversion now that you’ve given him a crumb.

“You must be dumber than I took you for, sweetling.” His hips retreat slightly, evading you. The sheer display of restraint is infuriating, electrifying. It shallows your breath with need. He stills again, a rough, gloved hand running firmly up your spine, pushing your shirt up to bare more of your skin to his view. “Tell me the rest.”

Your teeth set with a final, feeble whine of hesitation. More instinct than anything. But then a cold ring of metal presses your temple, and fresh fear unbinds your tongue in a deluge.

“S-she had, ah--civilian clothes, but, um… an Imperial s-standard issue blaster.” Your eyes screw in concentration, details flickering like a glitchy holocom through your brain. “I heard them talk about, uh. A shipment. For… Fuck, uh. Th-three cycles from now.”

Boba hums, a sound that makes your eyes roll back as you feel yourself nearly dripping against him, your slick coating his cock where it just barely parts you.

“Smart girl.” His hand drags indulgently down your back, coming to rest on your hip and squeezing. “Where’s the shipment going, princess?”

Torture. This is some kind of galactic war crime, you’re sure of it. Pleasure surges from your teased cunt and his grip on your flesh, and his voice is almost soothing now, coaxing you further towards complacency. It’s all too much. Your head rests against the crate, defeat washing in a gentle tide over you. 

“Going... to Hosnian Prime.”

A soft, satisfied puff of noise comes from the modulator. The barrel retreats from your temple. 

“Now, there’s a good girl.”

Warmth crashes through your lower belly, a strange and exhilarating sensation that suddenly makes you want to... purr? No one has ever spoken to you like this, and it’s tickling a part of your brain that feels far, far too good. But then his cock glides thick and heavy along your folds, obliterating your thoughts, and all you can think about is having that inside of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as he slowly aligns himself, teasing up and down the drenched, tender flesh of your pussy. He takes his time, massaging the blunt head over your clit and sending little shocks through your muscles, making you shiver and clench. “Please, please…” 

“Tame little creature when you want to be,” he grits, pressing against your entrance with an exhaled groan. “Keep being good for me.” 

Slowly, he starts to push. And, oh, fuck.

You’re not ready. 

You’re wetter and needier than you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re still not fucking ready to take a cock like this one when it crushes in and stretches you, setting an ache through your hips that tells you whatever happens, you’re bound to feel him for days. 

A cry sticks in your throat and you will yourself to breathe, to relax as he sinks in further, forcing your walls to flutter and part around him. It truly feels like being broken open, and your fingers have to dig into the wood beneath you when he pulls out an inch and then pushes again, sinking deeper this time as a choked noise pulls through the vocoder.

By the time he finally bottoms out, you swear you can feel him shifting your guts. Every muscle in your pelvis is straining to take him, the intensity mind-numbing already. You’re nearly choking on your own attempts to breathe while he pauses, sheathed like this for a few moments, seeming to concentrate on his own breathing at the same time. 

And then his voice comes again, a growl, pitched even lower and more ferocious than before through a clutched breath. 

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing.” 

Stars.

This is different.

It’s so hard to think, you’ve never felt more full, but something in the back of your mind is unfurling, turning hot and primal with a roiling kind of need that burgeons and begs at the feeling of his cock rooted so fucking deep inside of you. You’ve had sex before, sure, but this…

You’re about to get fucked. 

“Please…” you mewl. Desperation pierces you when you feel his fingers flex strong and firm around your hip in response. You turn your head, trying to glimpse him--only to realize that the blaster is still right next to your face, its angle nonchalant, close enough to brush your lips. 

Your mind is so drenched in lust, the first urge that strikes you is to stick out your tongue and wet the metal, its sharp alloy piercing your senses and making your pussy seize with the shudder of danger.

In your periphery, you see the visor snap to attention, like he wasn’t fully looking at you before, lost in his own pleasure. But now he is. And he gives the weapon an experimental twist, allowing for your lips to wrap, delicate and wet, just around the tip of the barrel.

“Fearless little mouse.” There’s something dark and charged in his voice. “You look good like that.”

A slight wiggle to open your jaw, and the blaster shoves past your lips, resting thick and cold on your tongue, lighting your spine with a new thrill. Your voice swells on a muffled moan around it, such a soft and lovely sound to accompany a thing that’s orchestrated countless deaths. 

“There we are. Nice and quiet now.” 

Finally, finally, he starts to thrust, slow and measured, forcing your body to yield around the width of him. Something burns hot in your belly with each steady stroke, wiping your brain of everything but his presence.

The rough material of a glove smothers one of your asscheeks, grips and pulls at the pillowy flesh, spreading you open as his thrusts take up a steady, powerful rhythm. Boba Fett lets out a long groan, and you can only imagine the view he has right now. It sears you alive, the knowledge that he likes looking at you like this, pitching and whimpering with his rhythm, the sight of your pussy stretched, helpless around his cock and your mouth wetting his blaster. 

Your spit slicks the barrel more with every thrust, and you can feel the mechanics shifting dangerously between your lips. But his trigger finger is steadier than death, and his control gives you the nerve to let your tongue lick out along the barrel, bathe in the electric wash of fear that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarls as his pace starts to kick up wilder. 

Intense pleasure cracks through you now, visceral in a way you’ve never felt, and it’s all you can do to keep relatively quiet. The barrel on your tongue is a sharp enough reminder, yet it fuels your arousal to burn hotter and wetter all the same. The more you concentrate on the powerful bliss coiling in your core and rippling outwards, the more you can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, your body yearning vaguely towards a release it can’t seem to center on.

You hear him groan as you squeeze him, his grip on your flesh flexing and shifting. A few more strong thrusts, and then his cock pulls all the way out of you with a woeful pang, the blaster vacating your mouth in the same motion to leave you empty, dizzied and clenching. But before you can unscramble your brain, the blaster slots back into its holster and he’s moving you. With an effortless kind of control, he flips you over, shifting you until the solid wood of the crate supports your ass.

He hikes both of your legs onto one shoulder and in one swift, easy motion, whisks your pants over your shoes and off of your ankles, tossing them carelessly into the darkness of the room before hooking your legs around his armored waist.

“Going to watch you cum, princess. Nice and pretty.”

Your mouth opens on a gasp at his words, and a gloved thumb immediately presses your tongue, the taste of leather and plasma residue grounding your senses enough to register that he’s lining his cock back up at the heat of your entrance. You whine around his thick digit, and he growls somewhere low in his chest as he pushes the thick head back in, this new angle making you see stars all over again. 

He doesn’t bother letting you adjust this time, just uses your wetness to his advantage to start railing through your tightness, burning and stretching you as that warm swell starts to crest again. It’s such a deep, full feeling, spreading a delicious ache from the spot where he hits you deep in your tummy. 

Your brows draw together, your whines pitching higher as you search the visor. It’s a wordless plea, your vision swallowed by the power of him fucking you deep, your body now screaming to cum but needing something you can’t quite pinpoint.

The hunter’s thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand forging an eager path down your body. He palms your tit over your shirt, before grabbing the low collar and yanking it down, baring your nipples to his view one after the other. His whole hand spans your torso as he hooks the lower hem with his thumb, bunching the material until both your belly and tits are bare, your shirt like a handle at your diaphragm that he uses to pound you even harder, watching your body jolt, overpowered by his thrusts.

Airy little wails brush through your lips, the pleasure all too intense and not enough at the same time. You can’t take it anymore, you need something on your clit, and your fingers twitch to seek out that precious target. But he’s already moving, his hips slowing to a lazier pace while his free hand finds some destination at his belt, and what he produces freezes you in your tracks.

“Steady now,” he breathes as he slips a long blade out of his belt and spins it by the hilt, his fingers almost too quick, too tactful for such a brute. 

Instinctual panic grips you at the sight of the weapon, making your legs try to close. But he’s pushed too deep in you, his frame has you pinned open, and there’s nothing you can do against the sheer breadth of his body. Powerless, you simply whimper.

“Wh… what are y--”

“Hush, princess.” 

A flick of his thumb and the vibroblade springs to life, its hum filling the quiet air. He starts to bring the blunt hilt of it down where your body yields to his. Alarm pierces you one final time, but then he touches the pommel, just barely, against the tender swell of your clit.

You want to fucking scream. As if in anticipation of this, he claps his hand over your mouth just in time for you to bite down on his glove while your eyes roll back in a powerful wave of ecstasy. The vibrations surge through the sensitive nerves, lighting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure bliss, and then a low, long growl slips through the helmet’s modulator at the feeling of your walls pulsing tight, strangling his cock. 

His thrusts deepen again, powerful and steady, stroking some devastating spot deep inside you. Your muffled wails get lost in the breath-dampened fabric of his glove while the intense pleasure crests from your clit, higher, higher, lasering in on that intangible cusp and barreling you straight towards it.

You suspend at the peak, all senses failing, and then your orgasm takes you in a riptide, surging through your nerves like liquid fire. The magnitude of it rends you, stronger than you’ve ever felt, dragging you under and forcing you to ride it out while it just pulls and pulls. By the time you regain your sight you’re shaking, waves of bliss still pulsing and crashing through your body in time to the strong rhythm of his hips, the glowing epicenter that unwavering vibration at your clit. 

Sobs wrack your chest, pour out high and lose themselves somewhere in the meat of his hand, and you think you try to catch a few breaths, but you can’t even come down. Boba’s voice cuts through the rush in your ears.

“Good. Good girl.” 

He holds the buzzing hilt of the blade impossibly steady against your clit and that glow is still so bright, twitching, starting to spill through your nerves again and holy shit you think you just might--

“Again.”

Your second orgasm shreds you like a plasma cannon.

You’re blind, numb to everything but the intense pleasure, nerves now as raw and sharp as the edge of the blade itself. His hand is tight over your face and you feel your cunt convulsing and gushing around his cock, slick cum spilling to wet your asscheeks, and it must be your own because his pace hasn’t let up. 

A clatter resounds on the edge of your consciousness and when your eyes come into focus, Boba’s hand is locking into your waist, the blade discarded somewhere in the room. His hips piston hard with a few vulgar slaps of flesh, the head of his cock crushing against your deepest parts before he wrenches out of you and spills over your bare stomach with a strangled roar, gripping himself at the base and thrusting against you as warm, thick ropes paint your skin.

His release is long. Grunts distort into rough static through the vocoder as he rides out the last pulses, until finally he braces himself on the crate beside your head, hunched over you like a beast, his chest plate rolling with heavy breaths. You can only blink at him through hazed, damp eyes, your body feeling weak and utterly fucked dumb. The hand over your mouth slowly unlocks its grip, dragging downwards and leaving you to take shallow gulps of air while he gives your tit a deliberate squeeze. 

And then he drags himself off of you, straightening with an almost-concealed groan as he adjusts himself and leaves you to blink at the dark ceiling, still letting oxygen find your brain. 

When you shakily manage to sit up, you just glimpse him slipping the discarded vibroblade back into his belt and turning towards the door. Even through your dizziness, you scoff. Figures. Bastard is just going to fuck your brains out and then leave you like this.

“You know,” you sigh, watching him and lazily trailing your fingers in a circle on your tummy, enjoying the lingering buzz of your skin and gathering a bit of his spend where it coats you, still warm. “I’d say that tip-off was at least worth a handful of credits in my jar on your way out.”

He turns and looks at you then, the helmet cocking in consideration for a moment. As soon as his attention is on you, your fingers move from his mess on your belly to your mouth, where you slowly suckle him off of your fingers, never once taking your eyes off the visor, a tiny ripple of playfulness wiggling your shoulders and curling your lips.

His shoulders square to you, and that hunter’s stance still makes your chest seize, sends a pulse to your exhausted pussy.

Metal clinks softly as he walks towards you, stepping between your knees until you’re forced to drop your hand from your mouth and look up at him, heart fluttering again. He brushes the knuckle of his forefinger under your chin.

“Fresh out.”

His back turns as you stare, speechless. And then the door swings on its hinges, and Boba Fett is gone.

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡